


Dealing with you

by Drifter (lightworlddrifter)



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M, Other, ace dipper, ace relationship, dubious demon morals, eventual grunkle bill hahahahahah im trash, triangle bill, yep
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 18:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 20,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2438060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightworlddrifter/pseuds/Drifter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stan and Bill have a History. Sometimes, History repeats itself. A series of interconnected drabbles from various points in Stan and Bill's interpersonal relationship.<br/>WRITTEN PRE-ATOTS</p><p>re-ordered chapters 10/16/14</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dusty Memories and Bad Endings

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to leave prompts on [my tumblr](http://hiccop.tumblr.com) OR in the comments and i will fill them because i love this pairing a whole lot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill is rooting through Stan's memories, and witnesses something he'd rather not see again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so welcome to whatever this is.
> 
> i needed stan/bill. i could find no stan/bill. i am filling that need for myself.
> 
> bill might be a bit out of character in this chapter? I'm not used to writing him, and if anything it'll probably stray more towards acting out of alignment. I see him more as chaotic neutral than purely evil.

Stan Pines. It would be a thousand years too soon if Bill ever had to hear THAT name again. After what he did. His brother, Stanley, _he_ wasn’t too bad. It was a shame what happened, but there wasn’t anything Bill could do about it. 

But Stanford. Stanford Pines. _Stanford_. Stan. Bill supposed he still wasn’t over it. It had been thirty years, sure, but to an omniscient being of unknowable power, that was hardly a day. 

It goes without saying that when the opportunity arose to enter Stan’s mind, he took it without a second thought. Bill had no _real_ intentions of actively looking for the code to the deed to the mystery shack, but really the contract with Gideon was just an easy way into the young man’s head. Old man, Bill mentally corrected. He was an old man now. 

He could feel it, as soon as he entered Stan’s mind, he was being followed. 

_Oh no, that won’t do,_ he thought, and with a mere thought time slowed to a crawl in Stans mind. He could be here for years now, uninterrupted, and hardly seconds would have passed in the outside world. Those kids, what were they again? Pine Tree, Shooting Star, Question Mark? Yes. They wouldn’t get here until he was good and ready for them. 

All this time, and Bill knew he wouldn’t even bother searching for that deed. If he found it, he found it, good for him, but really that was so far down on his priority list as to be nonexistent. 

“Where to start, where to start,” Bill muttered, gleefully rubbing his hands together as he surveyed the many doors scattered around Stan’s mindscape. 

 “Not much has changed, that’s easy to see,” he said. And it was true. While outside Stan may have aged like a fine wine, inside he was just the same as when Bill last saw him. Of course, last time Bill was here, he was a willing guest, but that was a different story. 

He laid a hand on a dusty door knob. _A memory not visited much. Private. Personal._ “Let’s see what’s behind door number one!” He shouted gleefully, throwing the door open with reckless abandon, sending plumes of dust into the air. What he saw inside made him almost wish he hadn’t. 

There was Stan, 26, standing in front of a circle of candles. He was looking at a spot on the floor, as though afraid of looking directly at the creature in front of him. Bill remembered this. He remembered the anger, the fear on his part. How dare he, how _dare_ such a low creature make Bill Cipher feel even the smallest amounts of fear. 

Sure enough, there was a second Bill, a different Bill, a Bill which only existed in this part of Stan’s mind. 

The younger Stan coughed, and kicked at the floor, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. He flinched as the Bill in the circle grew red, large, angry, and let out a resounding, echoing, **“ _WHAT!?”_**  

“Look, I just…” Said the younger Stan. Bill wanted to turn away, slam the door, forget he ever saw it _no wonder this door was so dusty of course he hates you he left you all your doors are gonna be dusty why don't you just leave, fulfill your contract, ruin his life, call it a done deal._ But he couldn’t. It was like watching a train wreck. Horrible, but you found yourself unable to turn away.

The younger Stan sighed. “I…” Bill watched as Stan’s hands clenched into fists, watched as his doppelganger heaved deep, useless breathes of anger in the center of the circle. Bill remembered the feelings of anxiety that he was trying to hide, to contain in that moment. “I just can’t keep doing this,” young Stan finished.

Bill watched his past self shrink down, compose himself. Bill was surprised to see that his past self was still a very angry red, he could have swore he had himself completely under control in that moment. It was probably Stan’s faulty memory, definitely that, it could be nothing else. Bill ignored the fact that he could _feel_ the authenticity of this memory, ignored the fact that he was steadily turning a dusty pink himself as he watched. 

“Can’t keep doing, _what_ , Stanford?” Past Bill asked, hissing the name just slightly. 

Young Stan flusteredly gestured to the room around him. “ _This!_ ” He began pacing. “The secrets, the lies!” 

Past Bill rolled his eye, putting on a mask of arrogance that was totally ruined by his emotional coloration. “You do lies for a living, Stanford.” Current Bill flinched at the venom in his own voice. 

“That’s _different!_ ” Stan shouted. Oh, did Bill remember this. This was when everything went Bad, he should leave, he should go, no, no. “No one gets _hurt_ when you’re not around!” 

Young Stan flinched. He hadn’t meant to say that. 

Past Bill stood very still. Whereas before he was still bobbing up and down, now he was frozen in place. “Is that what this is about?” he whispered. 

The hurt on Stan’s face, the agony. It was too much. 

**_“IS THAT WHAT T̠͕̪͉̩H̦̜̲̗͈̝̼̖̀͘Ì̛̱̦̼̙͔͚͞Ś̺̯͎ ͔͉̙̬̙I̵̴̖͖͖̜̣͎͢ͅS͖͕̼͙͚̯̥͟͡ ͖͇̝A͟͏҉̝̝̳͉̱̥͕̱B̡͕͇̜͍O̭̣Ṵ̡̫͉͚̼T̥͕̀͠ͅ!?̸͈͈̻̮̕”_**  

“Bill, please, you have to understand-”

Past Bill wouldn’t hear it. “ ** _Ņ̸̞̮̼̠͍͍͇̥̖͈̠͎̱̫͉̲̦̀ͅO͘҉̧̲̭̲̲̞̣̜̠̞̘̝̥ͅ_**   I understand **_perfectly well_** , _Stanford._ Well you get your wish.” He narrowed his one eye in the direction of the younger man, “You won’t have to **_do this ANYMORE!!”_**   

“Bill-” Young Stan reached towards the circle, but it was too late. Past Bill had already blinked out of existence in an angry crack, and the color slowly leached back into the room. 

Bill in the present continued watching the memory, curious as to how it panned out. He remembered being so angry that he didn’t leave the dreamscape for a year, ignoring any summons he may have received. 

He watched as young Stan pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and looked it over. “I can’t live in this town anymore,” he said to the empty circle, almost as if rehersing. He looked back at his paper. “And you can’t leave. Not without making a deal. So, let’s… Urgh,” he groaned and balled up the paper, throwing it onto the floor. “Useless…” 

Sensing the memory was over, Bill left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah see what i mean by a bit out of character? like i feel like he should put on an air of apathy 'if it entertains me i'll do it' kinda thing. i'll work on that
> 
> i can tell you in advance, it will /never/ be out of character in the 'true love im so care about u my triangle heart scorns evil'  
> at least not on purpose.


	2. Revolving Doors and Good Beginings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill continues rooting through Stan's memories and finds something equally surprising, though for entirely different reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fill for the cuddling prompt, though I'll probs write more pandimensional dorito cuddling because while I like this chapter it's not very high on gross old man and triangle snuggles.

Bill slammed the door, sending plumes of dust up everywhere. It was too much, too much feeling. Too much. “Welp, that was horrible,” he said, voice full of false bravado. 

“Let’s stay away from the abandoned doors from here on out, hmm?” It was for the best, really. It would be a thousand years too soon if Bill had to see any other memories with him in them. He decided to wander the more heavily trafficked areas of Stan’s mindscape. The places with worn floors, and threadbare rugs that had been trudged on thousand and thousand of times ago. 

In amongst the rustic doors with latches and locks was an anomaly. “Well, well, what do we have here,” he said, as he hovered up to the odd door. It was a chase door. One of those free swinging doors frequently used at restaurants, designed to dash in and out of quickly. It was like the exact opposite of the dusty door- this room had been entered and exited so frequently that even a simple knob had become an inconvenience. 

“This is probably one of his most treasured moments!” Bill exclaimed. He wiped a tear from his eye. “How precious!” He was going to destroy it. Not without seeing what it was first, of course. He wasn’t stupid. Just a little vindictive. 

He unceremoniously floated through the threshold, causing it to swing wildly back and forth behind him. 

He kept to the edge of the memory, however he quickly found that he recognized the scenery. The Ecorse drive-in theatre all the way out in Taylor, Michigan. 

The year was 1980, and a triple conjunction between Mars and Jupiter- the king and the warrior crossing paths thrice- triggered a power surge that allowed Bill to actually leave his domain for three full months. 

Naturally, the Stan twins (mostly Stanley) decided it’d be a great idea to use Bill’s temporary freedom to drag him across the united states with them on one of their “Investigations.”

It was July by the time their travels had taken them to Michigan, and Bill only had one more month outside of Gravity Falls. He had wanted to do something fun this evening, and Stanley was dead tired, so he suggested that Stanford take the car and go to the local drive-in, which was where present Bill found himself now. 

He drifted between the cars until he found the ever-familiar STNLYMBL, and sure enough, there he was with a younger Stanford Pines. 

Stan was leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he peered misty eyed out the windshield. He was trying his damndest not to cry during the climax of “The Duchess Approves.” Past Bill, meanwhile, had opted instead to watch Stan. His reactions were _way_ more entertaining than the snorefest that was on now. For reasons even an omniscient being couldn’t fathom, The Duchess Approves was Stan’s favorite movie series, and he had nearly every line from all three films memorized. As well as nearly every line from the remakes, which were the exact same, but set in space. 

Past Bill rolled his eye. “What, do you need a hug or something?” 

Stan had only looked over and sniffed wetly. This was apparently enough to set him off as fat, wet tears began falling down his face in steady rivets. 

“Woah, hey, I didn’t think you actually,” Past Bill hovered closer to Stan and his hands flitted about the younger man before settling on awkwardly patting his back. 

Stan then did something to Bill that no one had ever done before- caught him off guard. It happened in a flash, one minute Bill was patting Stan on the shoulder, the next Stan had wrapped his arms around the triangle and held on tight. Bill froze up for a moment before gently returning the hug. 

It was like a flood, Bill remembered finding himself so suddenly full of emotions, things he’d never felt before. A terrirorialness Bill generally only felt in regards to Gravity Falls had suddenly found itself applied to Stanford Pines. Stanford Pines had somehow shifted from the brother of his longtime associate and occasional ally into something else entirely. He had become territory to be protected, and something else. Something Bill hadn’t felt the need to ever really define. 

In that moment all Bill had known was that something had damaged what he now considered his property, and something had to be done about that. The wind picked up out of nowhere, a straight line of gale force winds swept overhead like a marching army. The screen of the drive-in had found itself blown away from the sudden derecho that tore through the area, somehow leaving the STNLYMBL completely untouched. 

Bill stared, dumbfounded at the ruined drive-in in the mindscape. _This_ was Stan’s most treasured memory? The stupid time he lost control? Rediculous. Ridiculous, _ridiculous._  

With a frustrated sigh, Bill quickly exited the memory, not even stopping to destroy it like he had planned. There was probably some mistake. This wasn’t what Stan considered one of his most precious moments, and if Bill told himself that enough times then maybe it’d be true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All celestial events are fact checked, and the derecho that destroyed the ecorse drive-in is an actual thing that actually happened. wikipedia told me so, therefore it must be true.


	3. One Good Eye and One Good Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan contemplates his passing interest in Lazy Susan.
> 
> takes place around Dipper vs Manliness, before the first chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for a one-sentence mention of eye-horror, in case you're like me, and don't like encountering that stuff unawares, even in passing.

Lazy Susan. She was the first person to catch Stan’s eye in over thirty years. Sure, he knew her before the twins came to visit, but she wasn’t really date material before then. Granted, she wasn’t really date material now. No matter. She had one good eye and one good pie, and was a welcome distraction from reminders of his own crippling loneliness for a few brief seconds.

Honestly the only reason she even caught his attention was her eye. And Dipper. If Dipper wasn’t so much like the twins’ late grandfather, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He wouldn’t have even looked her way if Dipper wasn’t the spitting image of Stanley Pines. Truly, it was only a passing interest. For a brief moment, there Stanley was again, in front of him complaining about how “no one takes him seriously as a man” and Stan found himself wondering when the one-eyed weirdo would show up and take things too far before putting them back right, yet again. There was no one-eyed weirdo, only their one-good-eyed waitress, and that was enough to catch his fancy in that fleeting moment.

Mabel latched onto it though. And what kind of Grunkle would he be if Stan didn’t humor her efforts? One confusing musical montage later, Stan went from undatable to VERY undatable, and yet he still ended up inadvertently winning Lazy Susan’s heart. Stan didn’t think there was any room left in there for someone not a cat.

Lazy Susan had one good eye. And one lazy eye. Two eyes. Not just one. And she was large. Not large as in fat, though she had some weight on her sure, but so did Stan so he’d be kinda a hypocrite if he held that against her. No, she was large, had physical presence, was too… Dimensional. She had too many dimensions and yet not enough. She didn’t exist on several planes of reality at once, and if you’ve ever sort of dated someone who did, it kinda made all other dating prospects lackluster.

Dating her would mean never having to explain why _no, you can’t give unending night terrors to the man at the other table for calling me crazy. Yes I know he probably deserves it, now sit down, you’re making me make a scene._ Dating her meant never having to draw blood and strike a deal whenever Stan wanted to actually see who he was quasi-dating while awake.

Dating her would mean no dreamscape physics, no screaming heads, no getting poked with a cane, no “ _Stan that eyepatch looks great! Let’s gouge it out so you can wear it!_ ” and no having to explain that you didn’t have to actually be missing an eye to wear an eyepatch.

It would be easy, but it was even easier to just let the calls go to voicemail. He wasn’t interested in her for the 30 years he’s forced himself to stay here, and he’s not gonna be interested now.

He wasn’t going to replace that one-eyed dork so easily. Sure, the argument can be made that it’s been 30 years, plenty of time to get over someone. But when that someone was so spectacularly weird and odd and unnerving as Bill was, it’s a little hard to find someone who even comes close to being a suitable replacement.

Sure, he was lonely. But the twins were a great distraction, even if sometimes Dipper reminded him of who he’d lost. Yes, he’d lost a brother. And yes, through careless words he’d lost a… whatever he and Bill were. But worrying about it now would just take away his enjoyment of the present.

And romance was overrated, anyway. A few small gestures here and there would be nice, true, but it wasn’t something Stan really craved. If it wasn’t misguided attempts at courtship from a pandimensional tortilla chip, then he would pass, thanks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> obligatory reminder that i'll fill prompts
> 
> any point in the timeline. this thing has no chronology at all. Ever once in a while i'll shuffle chapters around, but when that happens ill update the summary.


	4. Would you care to explain?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Sock Opera, Stan and Bill are sort of together. Stan demands an explanation for why his nephew ended the day requiring stitches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might move this chapter later if i ever end up writing a 'AND THIS IS HOW THEY Sort of...?? SORT OF GOT BACK TOGETHER' chapter. 
> 
> demons do not abide by traditional relationship standards, which leaves stan very confused about their status

Stan sat in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. A certain someone had some explaining to do. The kids had gone to bed a few hours ago, and while Stan was sure they fell right asleep (after all, today had been a busy day), he still wanted to wait a little while before he talked to his… Whatever he and Bill were these days. Just to be sure there were no listening ears. 

“Bill, I know you’re watching,” he said to the empty air. “So give up the pretense and dreamscape me.” 

Stan looked around, and noticed the world was still full of color. He leaned back in his recliner and groaned. He was getting too old for this. “ _Now_ ,” he said. 

Of course, Stan had no way of knowing if Bill was _actually_ watching, but after today Stan was pretty sure he would be. Just when he was about to get up and pull out the candles ( _Bill Cipher would be_ explaining _, no matter what)_ , the world faded to muted gray. 

“You really _do_ care, Stan, I’m touched,” said Bill with slightly more sincerity than he would ever admit to. 

“Bill,” Stan began, “would you care to explain _why_ , exactly, my great nephew required stitches in his arm and has a sprained wrist.” It wasn’t a question. 

“He was getting in too deep,” Bill said, with only the barest amounts of glee. “So I took care of it!” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Stan let out an exasperated sigh. It figured. He knew Bill well enough to understand his logic. Kid gets too close to the truth, so the natural thing to do is throw him off the trail. You _could_ do this by gently steering him away from the supernatural with physical training, or leaving false clues, Stan’s preferred method. Or, you could take the direct approach, Bill’s approach, and take matters into your own hands. Of course, with Bill, ‘your own hands’ meant ‘Dipper’s hands,’ because _of course_ Bill never had to do things the rational way. 

Yes, Stan understood the logic, and it worked, to some extent. Stan knew Dipper wouldn't be back out in the woods for a few days (though it was only a matter of time before he was hitting the trails, once again) and with the laptop gone (kid didn’t even realize Stan knew about it- he had intercepted it when Soos dropped it off and put a password on it, but of course that was no deterrent) there was no way Dipper could figure out the identity of that six-fingered nerd on his own. 

"Sorry, I forgot that your idea of 'taking care of it' usually resulted in involuntary possession," Stan said sarcastically. 

"You're welcome," Bill said, cane manifesting out of the ether for the sole purpose of jabbing it in Stans direction. 

"Sides," he continued, "it wasn't _totally_ involuntary. Pine Tree did make a deal, after all. Didn't you teach that kid about dealing with demons?" Bill tsked and gave the impression of shaking his head. "He's lucky it was only me, kid did _not_ think that one through." 

"Bill, I may not know exactly what happened, but I do know you made an offer while he was severely sleep deprived. Trust me, it was involuntary." Stan deadpanned. 

Bill rolled his eye. "Still doesn't change the fact that he hardly thought twice about what I was askin’ for." 

Now there was a thought. Dipper may be young but he was calculating. He never did anything without carefully weighing the pro and cons. And Stan really did mean _everything._ Kid wouldn't even take a shower without making a two page list. 

Stan eyed Bill skeptically. "So what did you ask for that was so seemingly harmless?" 

Bill did a little dance with his cane before throwing his arms out wide. "A puppet!" He gleefully exclaimed. 

Stan's palm met his forehead with a groan. "Could you _be_ anymore obvious?"  

"Yep!" Said Bill. He never quite got the concept of rhetorical questions. 

Stan would be having a talk with Dipper very soon about making deals without understanding the full implications of them. He'd have to be careful about it, though. He didn't want the kids to know he was onto their continuing mystery hunt, and he _definitely_ didn't want them knowing he knew Bill. That wouldn't end well. 

"Look, Bill, next time you wanna keep the kids off a trail can you run it by me first?" 

"Jeeze, Stan, no need to be such a wet blanket." Bill snapped his fingers, and, predictably enough, a sopping wet quilt plopped into Stan's lap. 

Stan didn't bat an eye, already reaclimated to Bills unique sense of humor, and simply pushed it onto the floor. "I'm being serious here, Bill." 

Bill snapped his fingers and the quilt was gone. "Sure kid," he said with a roll of his eye, "if it'll help you sleep at night." 

"It will. And don't call me kid, I'm a grown adult," he said crossing his arms. 

"Everyone's a kid to me, kid!" Bill tipped his hat. _Now he was just doing it on purpose._ "Now, if you don't mind," Bill sang, leaving the 'I'll be leaving now' unspoken. 

"Sure, sure," Stan said, casually shooing the demon away. "Go do whatever it is you do, make people, I don’t know, step on legos or whatever." He waved a hand dismissively. 

"See ya around, Stanford. And remember: I'll be watching!" He said just before winking out of existence.

 Stan woke up out of his chair with a start. "Of course you will," he said as he rested his elbow on his knees and rubbed his eyes. 

He should have been more upset or unnerved at Bills methods, but he found it hard to be. He knew Bill, knew he liked to cause trouble, and knew that Bill didn't really know where the line was. Sure, he had his own personal limits, but they were so far past what people would consider reasonable as to be considered heinous. 

It didn’t help that Stan himself had a dubious moral standard, so perhaps that was why Bill's methods weren't nearly so unreasonable seeming as they probably should've been. Of course, sometimes Stan wondered if he would have the same moral code without Bill’s influence. But in the end, it didn’t really matter, did it? Wondering about it didn’t change the fact that Stan sat there, decidedly unbothered by Bill’s methods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a prompt in the comments or on [my tumblr](https://hiccop.tumblr.com) or in the comments and i'll write for it, probably.


	5. Grunkle Who Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the beginning of next summer, Stan and Bill have a choice. Keep secrets from the persistent pines twins, or don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had this finished nearly exactly 24 hours ago.
> 
> today was a busy day holy juice it was ridiculous. way too much stimulation for me bleh

Stan sipped his coffee, casually side eyeing the demon sitting across the table from him. Said demon currently had his fingers ensnared in a chinese finger trap, and appeared the be desperately working to get them free. "Sooo," Stan began, not really sure how to bring up this particular topic. "The twins'll be here next week. Start of summer and all."

"Uh huh, that's great," said Bill, clearly not paying attention.

Stan gave him an unamused look before rolling his eyes. He took another sip of his coffee. "And I was thinking about giving the deed to the shack back to Gideon and leaving Gravity Falls forever."

"Sure, kid, whatever makes you happy," said Bill. Now Stan knew he _definitely_ wasn't paying attention. 

“Bill, this is serious.” Stan said, setting down his coffee and massaging his temples.

The finger trap ignited in blue fire and disappeared in a puff of smoke. Bill turned from where he hovered just above the seat, and leaned an elbow on the table. “You have my undivided attention, Stan Pines.”

“Like I was saying,” Stan began again, “The twins are coming back next week.”

“Gee, I never would have guessed,” Said Bill with a roll of his eye. He glanced behind Stan at the calendar that had May 31 circled in red with big bold letters that clearly proclaimed “TWINS RETURN.” Pine Trees and Shooting Stars and large, pointing arrows were scribbled around the circle. Nearly half the month of May was taken up for the sole purpose of drawing attention to its end.

Bill sighed, and floated out of the chair, “Guess I’ll go get started packing my bags. Back to the lonely, gray, dark, _lonely_ mindscape for this all powerful demon.”

Stan grabbed his arm and pulled him back towards his seat, “Quit moping I wasn’t finished yet.”

“Look,” Stan sighed, “We have, whatever this is,” he gestured between the two of them, “and if we learned anything last summer, it’s that no secret is safe from a pair of pines twins.”

“If it took you _that_ long to learn that, you’re not nearly as smart as I thought,” said Bill. Pines Twins had been causing problems for generations, and the newest set was no exception.

“Anyway, _as I was saying_ ,” Stan glared at Bill for the interruption, though it was clear there was no genuine malice behind it, “If we try to hide, _this_ ,” another awkward gesture between the two of them, “then they’re gonna find out, and I’d rather not deal with the eventual feelings of betrayal.”

Bill narrowed his eye suspiciously. “What’re you getting at?”

“Let’s just… not? Change?” Honestly, Stan wasn’t really sure _what_ he was getting at. “I mean,” he paused a minute, trying to think things through a bit, “If they’re gonna find out anyway, then why try to hid it in the first place? Whatever _it_ is.”

“So what you’re saying, is you wanna just keep things as they are?” Bill asked. Stan nodded in reply. “And extend the deal we made at the end of last summer?” Stan nodded again, and drank from his coffee. “Well, alright then.” Bill extended a hand, cloaked in blue fire. “How long do you want to extend this for, anyway? Another year? Eighteen months, maybe?”

Stan placed his hand in Bills, and shook it once, firmly. “The rest of my natural life,” he said. No hesitation. No questions. A permanent extension on the deal they made at the end of last summer. Bill’s eye briefly widened in surprise.

It was a simple enough deal, to be sure. Bill wards off nightmares in exchange for the ability to use Stan as a jumping board in and out of the mindscape. He couldn’t be seen by anyone  who wasn’t Stan unless he willed it, but he could interact with the material world, to some extent. And it meant Stan wouldn’t have to be passed out whenever they wanted to have a friendly chat. It also meant it was easier to pull Stan himself into the mindscape. If Bill _really_

wanted to, he could fudge the terms of their deal and take over Stan’s body entirely, but where was the fun in that? As things were, he could terrify tourists with little more than a carefully placed sheet, and it would be a lie to say Bill wasn’t looking forward to the summer rush.

It connected them, and Stan was an anchor to places outside of this town. It was a minor deal, but to extend it for so long… Jumping in and out of the mindscape wasn’t easy, by any means, and it required at least partial ownership of a soul native to the physical world. Really, that was what their deal was about. Temporary, partial ownership of Stan’s life. Stan _knew_ this, had researched and come up the terms for this particular deal _30 years_ ago. But here he was, offering up half his soul, forever, like it was nothing.

Of course, there was a slight downside for Bill too. If he kept jumping, as often as he did, without taking breaks every few months like they had planned on, he himself could be tethered to Stan’s being as much as Stan was to his. But was that really so bad?

“Sounds like a plan,” Bill said, shaking Stan’s hand once more to finalize the arrangement before letting go.

They went about the rest of their day as though nothing had happened. Stan sat behind the cash register, waiting for any stray tourists, while Bill loitered about the rest of the shack.

Neither Soos nor Wendy were working during the off-season, with Soos away at college, and Wendy still in school. They would both be returning to Stan’s payroll at the start of the Summer when the twins arrived, and Stan was glad for that.

Business had started to pick up slightly in May, with other school districts getting out earlier, but it wasn’t too much for Stan to handle on his own just yet. Of course he wasn’t _really_ on his own, and if it came down to it, Stan knew Bill would have no problem magic-ing himself up a body to temporarily run the cash register. It was a drain on him though, so he didn’t do it too terribly often.

Five PM came and went, and Stan closed up the shop before settling in for yet another boring old lady movie marathon. Bill never really found them interesting, but he always enjoyed watching how into it Stan got.

The next few days passed just the same, and before either really realized it a Taxicab was pulling out of the Mystery Shack parking lot and twin tween hands were knocking on the front door.

Stan was eating his morning oatmeal when he heard Mabel’s enthusiastic cries of “Grunkle Stan! Open up!” He dropped his spoon in shock and glanced at the demon in his usual spot across the table.

“Is it the 31st already?!” He tried and failed not to shout. He looked at the calendar. Sure enough, the rest of the week had gone by in a flash. “We haven’t even figured out what we’re going to tell them,” he said, more to himself than anyone.

“You’ll figure something out, kid,” said Bill, lazily working on solving a what-the-heckahedron.

"Grunkle Stan!" This time it was Dipper.

"Keep your shorts on, I'm coming," shouted Stan as he got up from the table.

"Fair warning, Stanford, I plan on staying on the visible spectrum," said Bill looking up from his puzzle. He squinted his eye shut briefly before saying "wink!"

"Just, stay in here until I'm ready, alright?" Bill gave a thumbs up and Stan went to the front door. "Isosceles bastard," he muttered under his breath.

He opened the door and was immediately tackled by his great niece. "We missed you!" She shouted, clinging to Stan as he stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him.

Dipper, ever the observant one, noticed this odd behavior. "Grunkle Stan, are you alright?" He asked.

"Yeah, let's go inside," said Mabel as she climbed off her Grunkle.

"Kids, before we go inside, there's something I have to tell you." Stan lowered himself to one knee so he was eye level to them. He put a hand on each of the kids shoulder.

"What's up, Grunkle Stan?" Mabel asked.

"Kids, you know I love you very much, right?" They both nodded. "I know last summer was crazy, and I kept some things from you I probably shouldn't have. A while back, I, uhh, _met_ someone," ever the romantic, Mabels eyes lit up at that, "and while you were away, we started, well, living together. So before we go inside, I want you to know that I... lo- _like_ this guy _very_ much, so..."

Mabel squealed. "You got a _boyfriend!"_ She jumped up and down, trying to peer inside the house. "Lemmie see him! Is he ruggedly handsome? Are you gonna get married?" She gasped at that. "You gotta let me plan the wedding! Dipper!" She turned and shook her twin, "You can be the ring bearer!"

"Mabel slow down," said Dipper. "I think Grunkle Stan would tell us if he started dating someone, right?" He smiled halfheartedly and turned to his Grunkle for confirmation. " _Right?"_ He pressed when he received none.

Stan stood up and gave a nervous laugh. "It's... complicated."

Dipper narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Complicated how?"

"He's.... it's just..." Stan waved a hand, as though a reasonable excuse would just fall into it. He sighed, "Look, this guy, he's a part of my life now. And you two are a part of my life. And he doesn't have to be a part of yours, but can you both just promise me you'll give him a chance?"

Dipper gave a hesitant "Ok," greatly contrasting his twin's enthusiastic "Alright!" It was good enough for Stan.

As soon as he stepped aside and opened the door, the twins scrambled inside, only to stop short when they entered the living room and saw the shape sitting at the table at the other end of the room. "Kids," said Stan from behind them, "meet your Grunkle Bill."

Mabel screamed. Dipper fainted. It wasn't too terrible, as far as reactions went.


	6. The Cake Metaphor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fifteen year old Dipper wants answers. Though not to the questions he usually asks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to A Very Special chapter. everyone is ace in this AU the end.

Stan sat in his chair, watching some of his old Loinclothiclese films. The twins were... Somewhere. He kinda stopped keeping tabs on them after their first week back. Fifteen year olds were trouble, and Bill did a good enough job keeping them out of anything too dangerous.

He was just about to get up and change to the next tape of the Loinclothiclese saga when he heard a knock coming from the threshold. “Umm, Grunkle Stan?” It was Dipper.

“Ya need somethin’, kid?” he asked, settling back into his seat. Dipper had that look on his face, the one that said _I want answers but I don’t know how to ask._  

He stood awkwardly in the threshold before moving to sit down on the step. “Can I.. Can I ask you something?”

Stan resisted the urge to point out that he just did, and instead said, “Go on.” Dipper looked troubled.

“Have you and Bill ever… you know…” He trailed off, looking everywhere but Stan’s eyes.

“Know what?” Stan shifted slightly in his seat to face Dipper more.

“Done… things?” Dipper’s face started turning scarlet. Stan had an idea of where this conversation was going.

He raised an eyebrow. “Things?”

“You know, _things_ ,” Dipper said, looking just to the left of Stan. He made a suggestive hand gesture to illustrate his point.

“Oh,” said Stan. Yep, that was where this was going. “Those things. That’s a little personal there, kid.”

Dipper finally looked Stan in the eyes. “So, you _have_ done things?” He looked… Disappointed?

Stan laughed. “What? No, are you kidding?” He wiped a tear from his eye. “You’re kidding, right?”

Dipper fidgeted with his hands “Ummm, No?” That clearly wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

“No, Bill and I haven’t, and will never, do _things._ Why’d you wanna know, anyway?” Stan asked.

Dipper sighed. “It’s Carla.”

“Who?” The name was only vaguely familiar.

“Carla? My girlfriend? Back in California?”

“Ah,” said Stan. He remembered now. Dipper had mentioned her once or twice during their weekly video chats. “What about her? Are you and her…?” He trailed off, not really sure how one would even go about asking that sort of question.

“No, no,” said Dipper, shaking his head. “Ew,” he made a face but then suddenly stopped as if he hadn’t meant to say that. “Actually, no, Ew, that’s- that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Before we left, she kept wanting to, to _you know,_ and it was just… _ew_.”

He was back to looking everywhere but Stan, and began gesturing wildly with his hands. “And it’s like, all my friends talk about, how they did _this_ or _that_ on one weekend, or how many girls they _did things_ with at homecoming and it’s just so _ew_ and I tried talking to Dad about it, but all he did was hand me a pack of condoms and say,” at this part Dipper deepened his voice and straightened his posture, and put a hand to his chest as if to mimic his father, “ _Son, you’ll find the right girl some day!_ ”  his slouch returned, “and I just don’t think that’s ever going to happen, because, just…” he trailed off.

“Ew?” Stan finished for him.

Dipper looked up at him and smiled slightly, “Yeah. Ew.”

Stan stood up, and walked over to where Dipper sat. “Scoot over, kid,” he said, and Dipper moved so that Stan could sit next to him. “Now,” he started, “I can’t say I know _exactly_ how you feel-”

Dipper put his head in his hands, “I knew it I’m a freak,” he muttered.

“Hey, I wasn’t finished,” Stan gave Dipper a gentle shove, and continued when he looked up, “I don’t know _exactly_ how you feel, but I _do_ know where you’re coming from.”

“You do?” The slight glimmer of hope in Dipper’s voice was heartbreaking.

“Yes, I do,” Stan paused for a minute, trying to think of the best way to explain things. “Dipper, what’s your _least_ favorite kind of cake? The kind you can’t stand, wouldn’t eat if it were the last thing on earth.”

Dipper made a face. “Coconut. It’s disgusting.”

Stan nodded. “Ok, so sex,” he didn’t miss the way Dipper flinched at the word, “is like coconut cake.”

Dipper raised an eyebrow. “Are you going somewhere with this?”

“I’m getting there, I’m getting there, “ Stan continued. “So, a lot of people _really_ like coconut cake. Some people go really out of there way to get coconut cake, making it from scratch and everything. Me, personally? I don’t really like it, but if you gave it to me I wouldn’t turn it down, ‘cause hey, free stuff. But I’m not going to go and actively search for coconut cake, and if there’s other things I’d rather have that, and if I’m not in the mood I don’t really want anything to do with it, ‘cause, yeah, it’s kinda gross. This making sense so far?”

Dipper nodded. He could sort of follow.

“Alright, so then, there’s people like you,” he poked Dipper’s chest. “Some people just can’t _stand_ coconut cake. It’s the absolute _worst_. And that’s ok. Not everyone _needs_ coconut cake, and I happen to agree with you, it’s kinda gross, and I only like it in the right circumstances.”

Stan watched the gears turn in Dipper’s head as the informations sank in. “Wait,” he said, “So, you mean, this is…. Normal?”

“Yes it’s normal,” Stan said. “Has a name too.”

“It does?” Dipper asked.

“Asexuality. It means you don’t find people sexually attractive. In your case, it’d be sex repulsed. Either way, it’s perfectly normal.”

“Asexual?” Dipper muttered, testing the word in his mouth. He took a moment to process what stann just told him via convoluted metaphors. “Hold on, you said _you_ don’t like coconut cake, too, does that mean…?”

“Yep.” Stan reached behind Dipper’s ear, and pulled out a card. He placed it in Dipper’s hand. _Ace of Spades._ “Ace.”

Dipper grinned at the card and looked over at Stan. “Grunkle Stan?”

“Yeah, kid?”

Caught up in the moment, Dipper did something he rarely did in the three years he and his sister had been coming to Gravity Falls. He reached over, and hugged his Grunkle Stan. “ _Thank you,”_ he whispered.

Stan sat there frozen for a moment, and Dipper darted off with a “I gotta go tell Mabel.”

“No problem, kid,” Stan muttered. “No problem."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carla is named for Carla "hotpants" McCorkle and will never be mentioned again. Isn't the cake metaphor great though? I cant count how many times I've used it sweet bby thor it's the best.
> 
> in case it wasn't obvious this is also a very self-indulgent au


	7. When Stanley Met Bill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley summons a demon to help him solve the mysteries of Gravity Falls
> 
> wrote this pre-Not What He Seems, but might have minor, vauge spoilers for that, because fan theories ended up being correct

Finally, Stanley had done it. Unearthed the spell to call forth the mighty demon Cipher from its domain. He was expecting gnashing fangs and beating wings. What he wasn't expecting, was Bill.

"Wow wee," said Bill from where he floated in the center of the circle. "First summons in 70 years and I was not expecting some weedy teen."

Stanley dropped his notebook."Y-you're a triangle!"  He exclaimed, not bothering to correct the demon and insist that he was 22 and therefore hardly a teen, even if he did have a baby face and a bit of acne.

Bill rolled his eye. "Ten points to you, kid. Here, have a prize." He snapped his fingers and thousands of spiders fell on top of Stanley who shrieked only a little and frantically worked to shove them off his arms. As soon as they left his body the arachnids were revealed to be merely an illusion as they dissolved away in misty smoke.

Once Stanley got over the initial shock he started laughing. "That was great!" He said. "I can't believe that worked!"

"Sure did. The name's Bill Cipher. What can I do for you?" 

Stanley grinned and picked up his notebook. "I have questions," he said. He flipped to a page about midway through the spiral bound journal, and skimmed it. "Like why does all this weird stuff happen in gravity falls, and is the government run by lizard people and oh! Ooooh!" At this he pulled a pencil from behind his ear and tapped it against his chin "What's the exact time and date of my death?"

Bill held up his arms in a placating gesture. "Easy, kid, slow down a minute." He pulled a cane from the ether and propped himself up on it. "Having questions is all well and good, but what's in it for me?"

"Oh, right," muttered Stanley. He adjusted his glasses and flipped to another page in his notebook. He cleared his throat and read, "In exchange for honest answers or solutions to the mysteries of gravity falls, I grant you full access to my dreams to be devoured by you."

Bill hummed thoughtfully. The deal was fair enough, and Bill knew that he had enough wiggle room to give the kid answers without _really_ giving him answers, but he was pretty sure he could get more out of this. "How about this instead: you get one question per day, which I will answer, and in exchange I get to live with you and eat your dreams."

"Why would you want to live with me?" Stanley asked, only a little confused. That was a really odd request.

Now there was a question. The truth was, Bill was incredibly bored. And it wasn't everyday he got summoned for answers and knowledge for its own sake rather than to get ahead of others. "Because you seem interesting, kid. So are you gonna take the deal or no?" Bill was already holding out his hand, ready to shake.

Stanley went over the new terms in his head. Something seemed a little off. "I ask you one question per day?"

"Yep!"

"Which you answer..."

"That's what I said."

Stanley figured out what it was. "How about this: I ask you one question per day, which you answer _truthfully_ and in exchange you live with me and eat my dreams?" 

Bill had to hand it to him, the kid was smart. "Sound like a deal?" 

Stanley stuck out his hand. "Deal."

 They shook.

****  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did ya miss me? admit it, you missed me. No, I'm kidding. This chapter has been written since last october. It's short, too, whoops. there's a longer one coming up that im working on finishing, a 'stanford meets bill' chapter.
> 
> if you leave prompts on [ my tumblr ](http://hiccop.tumblr.com/ask) or in the comments i'll fill them


	8. Heavy Breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill calls Stanford on the phone, only for it to go straight to voicemail.

Stanley was busy. Currently, he was doing his best to document the habits of a wild pixie that just happened to land on the windowsill, an incredibly rare occurrence. Of course it was something he was very willing to document. A Busy Stanley meant a Focused Stanley, and a Focused Stanley meant a very bored Bill.

“Soooo,” said Bill as he idly floated next to his associate. “Has that brother of yours made any plans to visit?” he asked. He knew the answer was no, but he also knew Stanley wasn’t paying any attention.

“Uh-huh,” muttered Stanley, as if on cue, as he furiously scribbled in that dinky little notebook of his. 

“Really?” asked Bill, voice full of fake astonishment. “Is that so? Sometime soon, I hope?”

“Sometime, yeah, probably,” replied Stanley, who was still too focused on sketching gossamer wings dripping with pixie dust to process the words coming out of his mouth. Say what you will about Stanley Pines, but he was a master of pretending to pay attention. It’s the only way he got through high school.

“So I guess you won’t mind if I call him, then? See what his plans are?” The trap was laid. Bill couldn’t actually touch anything in the shack without Stanley’s permission, as a part of their ongoing deal, but with how in-the-zone, as it were, Stanley was now, maybe Bill could find some entertainment for himself after all.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you need Bill,” Stanley said, as he sketched the tiny ribbons on the pixie’s delicate shoes.

“Thanks, pal,” said Bill as he blinked out of the room and into the kitchen where the phone was.

He dialed Stanford’s number without even checking the sticky note it was written on that was stuck to the fridge. Limited omniscience was nothing if not convenient.  The phone rang once. Twice. Bill idly twisted the phone cord around his finger.

Of course it went straight to voicemail. Bill knew it would. If he had a mouth he’d be grinning when he heard the gruff “This is Stanford Pines. Don’t leave a message.”  He could feel his color shifting to a slight pink as he cackled nervously into the receiver at the beep before hanging up.

Later that evening, Stanford noted to his displeasure that he had a voicemail. With a sigh, he let the machine play back the message. There was an odd, twisted laughter, that echoed eerily followed by a click as the call ended. With a groan, Stanford rolled his eyes. _Bill_. His brother’s annoying roommate was calling him again.

Stanford would deal with it in the morning. As annoying as Bill was, Stanford knew he couldn’t do anything about him at the moment. Besides that, he was tired from a long day trying and failing to sell vacuums. He erased the message, resolved to call his brother in the morning, and went to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this was posted to tumblr. There is an extra paragraph added to the end tho! bonus! lame bonus, but bonus!  
> DOUBLE BONUS:  
> [CHECK OUT THIS REALLY CUTE ART](http://grunklebill.tumblr.com/post/102342039687/hiccop-randomdraggon-replied-to-your-post-give) drawn by [grunklebill](http://grunklebill.tumblr.com) It's currently my phone lock screen that's how cute it is


	9. Plans for the Holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley wants nothing more than to have his brother over for chirstmas to meet his best friend.

“And so _then_ ,” came the voice at the other end of the phone, “Bill just starts _singing_ so I think, what the hell, _why not_ so me and Fiddleford just join in, and it _turns out_ zombie’s skulls can be completely shattered by perfect three part harmony.”

Stanford Pines wasn’t really listening. Instead he just nodded, even though the action couldn’t be seen by his twin and interjected with the appropriate ‘uh huhs’ and ‘ _really_ s’.

Every week his brother called from that no-name town he ended up in for his ‘research.’ Gravity’s Mall? Someplace like that. Apparently he and some guy he met named Bill got into all kinds of trouble, but of course Stanford, being the sensible one, never really put much stock in his brother’s stories. He humored him, sure, but seriously? Zombies? Stanford may not be the smartest guy around but he wasn’t an idiot, either.

Their mother may have raised one fool, but it sure as hell wasn’t Stan Pines. Well, Stan _ford_ Pines. Forget whatever Stanley was doing in Gravatron Halls, the _real_ mystery was what kinda parent named both their kids _Stan_.

"Stanford? Brother? Hello, are you there?"

"Huh, what, yeah I'm still here," said Stanford. He had completely zoned out for a minute there.

"I said, Bill wants to know if you’re planning on visiting over christmas. He really wants to meet you," Stanley repeated.

"Oh. Bill," Stanford cleared his throat, not quite sure how to answer. He’d never met the guy, but he freaked Stanford out like nobody's business. “Is he there with you?”

Stanford had only spoken to him a few times, but man was that guy creepy. “No, no, he’s out right now,” replied Stanley.

“Ah, right. Out.” Stanford pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering if there was a polite way to say ‘please keep that guy one million miles away from me at all times.’ It was always awkward when Stanley handed the phone over to the other man. His voice was annoying, and there was always this weird, feedbacky sound. The one time Stanford had asked about it, Stanley had made a noncommittal sound and said that his voice was just like that. Plus he had this weird habit of leaving creepy voice mails whenever he called.

Stanford awkwardly coughed. “Right, listen,” he started, “Why don’t you, and, ugh,” he shuddered, “ _Bill_ come down here instead?”

“Oh, that sounds great, brother, I’d love to,” Stanford heard a sigh, and waited patiently for the excuse, “but Bill can’t exactly _leave_ Gravity Falls.”

“Well sure he can, just tell him to take a week off, from… wherever it is he works,” said Stanford. He never quite figured out what that guy actually did for a living. Or what Stanley did, for that matter. 

“No, no, I mean he can’t leave. You should just come visit, it would be much easier.”

Stanford sighed. “Look, Stanley, I… There’s no polite way to say this, but Bill gives me the willies. I’d rather not meet the guy outside my own home.”

“What?” Stanley sounded like a kicked puppy. Stanford flinched. “Come on, he’s not so bad once you get to know him. And it’d mean a lot to me if my brother and my best friend could be pals.”

Stanford could _hear_ the pitiful expression on his brother’s face. “Does this _really_ mean that much to you?”

“You mean you’ll come?” The little spark of hope in Stanley’s voice was too much.

“Fine, I’ll come,” Stanford sighed. “But only for you.”

“Thanks, brother!” said Stanley. “I’m gonna go let Bill know right now, talk to you later!”

The call ended with a click before Stanford even had the chance to say goodbye.

And that was how Stanford found himself standing out on the porch of a small cabin on a cold December afternoon. He set his bag down and knocked on the door.

“Bill can you get that?” he heard Stanley shout.

Stanford wasn’t sure what he was expecting when the door opened. A nasally twenty something, smooth talking con man?  Yes. Maybe Bill was someone tall and willowy. Or perhaps someone short and round. Either way, Stanford wouldn’t have been surprised.

What he was not expecting, was the glowing, gold triangle that floated just above eye level.

“So,” he coughed into his fist. “You must be Bill?” he asked, coming to the only logical conclusion available.

“Sure am!” said the triangle. It didn’t have any lips or mouth out of which to speak, and instead dimmed and brightened on each syllable. “It’s good to finally meet you. Stanley’s told me a _lot_ about you.” His voice confirmed that he was, in fact, Bill. It still had that echo-y quality to it that Stanford hated, too. Guess Stanley was right, his voice really _was_ just like that.

Bill floated aside and Stanford stepped into the house. It was a rustic place, very homey. “So, uhhh,” he looked around, not really sure what to say. Was he dreaming? Probably. He expected to wake up on the bus any minute now.

Stanley waked into the entry hallway, wiping his hands on a rag which he set on an end table as he passed. He pulled Stanford into a hug. “It’s good to see you, brother!” he said.

Stanford patted his back awkwardly, and they parted. “Wow, so,” he started, “This is, this is weird, right?” he gestured between himself and his brother and Bill.

Stanley just looked confused at the question. “Weird?”

Stanford wasn’t surprised that he’d have to explain himself further. His brother always had a skewed sense of normalcy. “He is literally a triangle. Like an actual shape. Literally,” Stanford deadpanned.

“Well, what other shape would a demon even be, anyway?” Stanley asked.

Stanford turned to Bill, taking in the creature before him. “When you called Bill a demon I thought you just meant ‘demon’ as in smooth talking con-man, not literal denizen of hell.”

Bill was about to correct the man, but Stanley beat him to it, “Dreamscape, actually.”

“Dream-what?” Stanford raised an eyebrow.

“He’s a denizen of the Dreamscape, not hell,” Stanley explained.

“Because that makes this less weird,” Stanford said sarcastically.

If Bill were being honest with himself, he was mildly astonished. Stanford was taking the whole “your brother’s roommate is a literal demon” thing surprisingly well. Of course, he knew he would, but it was one thing to _know_ it would happen and another thing entirely to watch it unfold before him. And besides that, his omniscience was a little fuzzy when it came to predicting his own future (not that he’d ever in a million years admit it).

“Well, it’s good to finally meet you,” Bill said, holding out his hand to shake.

Stanford just eyed it warily, before wearily reaching out to take it. They shook twice and parted, and Stanford paused, almost as if expecting the world to implode right then and there. Shaking hands with a demon was a bad thing, right? He mentally shrugged when nothing bad happened, and decided to put it out of his mind. As far as Bill was concerned, no deal was struck.

“Yeah,” replied Stan. “You too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just a note, this chapter was actually started pre-blind eye society. whoops. I literally just finished it last night though, so there's that. 
> 
> man it's gonna SUCK if we get more Stanley characterization and everything is completely ooc for this fic. ((or if he's not even NAMED Stanley but that's an easy fix)) I'm drawing a lot from Dipper for him, but /loud shrugging
> 
> as always you can leave a prompt on [my tumblr](http://hiccop.tumblr.com/ask) OR just drop it in the comments section. this fic is incredibly self-indulgent as i've said before so i'll do pretty much anything.


	10. Body Spasms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for [grunklebill](http://grunklebill.tumblr.com) posted on tumblr a while back originally:  
> bill, having discovered tickling is a thing that human bodies do, asks stan if he is ticklish. “absolutely not, i have nerves of steel, get away from me don’t coME ANY CLOSER”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place post Blendin's Game

Today had been a surprisingly quiet day. The twins some how managed to not get into any trouble at all that day, and he had more fun than he was willing to admit playing laser tag with Soos and the others. Still, there was nothing better than a quiet house (the twins went straight to bed when they got home, to Stan’s immense relief). He leaned back in his chair, ready to watch another rousing episode of Baby Fights, when he felt the air shift next to his ear.

The next thing he knew, the world had gone grey, and hovering next to him was the one and only Bill Ciper. “So, I’ve been thinking,” said Bill, getting right to it. He never was one for small talk.

“Oh have you now?” asked Stan, only mildly annoyed about being pulled into their private space without warning.

“Yeah,” said Bill. “You see, when I was keeping your nephew out of trouble a few weeks back-“

Stan rolled his eyes. “Oh, is that what we’re calling it?”

Bill huffed, “Yes, anyway, _as I was saying_ ,” he narrowed his eye at Stan, “When I was keeping your nephew out of _trouble_ , I learned a few things.”

He lazily inched closer to Stan, until he was practically looming over the older man. “And what could you, oh _all-knowing one_ have possibly learned by possessing a 12 year old boy?” Stan asked sarcastically.

“Tell me, Stanford,” Bill began, flexing his fingers in a mildly threatening manner, “are you ticklish?”

Bill didn’t miss the way Stan paled at the word. “No, absolutely not,” he said.

“C’mon,” said Bill, fingers inching closer. “Are you sure?”

“I have nerves of steel,” he backed up as much as his chair would let him. This is what he gets for allowing the little demon to corner him. “Get away from me.”

“Are you sure you’re not ticklish, Stanford?” Bill lightly dusted his fingers over Stan’s arm, earning him an indignant grunt for his efforts.

“Don’t coME ANY CLOSER.” And like that Bill was on him, tickling his ribs and under his arms.

Stan tried to push Bill away, but Bill only turned temporarily incorporeal. “Stop, Bill, no,” Stan managed to get out between peals of laughter. “Body Spasms!”

Bill let up, and floated back, satisfied. “Nerves of steel, huh?”

Stan could only glare halfheartedly. “Let us never speak of this again.”

“No promises,” said Bill with a grin in his voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was originally posted to tumblr and i completely forgot about it until i ran into it in the stanbill tag whoops
> 
> as always if u leave a prompt either in the comments or on [tumblr](http://hiccop.tumbr.com) i will fill it, at least 200 words, quickly before my muse dies


	11. Non-existent Love Triangle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanford doesn't even realize he might have feelings for Bill until he hears from Stanley that he might. Of course, not everything is what it seems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from [southernkittygal](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthernKittyGal/pseuds/SouthernKittyGal)  
> Past Stanford and Stanley both find out that they both like Bill and fight over him. Then Bill arrives and the rest is up to you?
> 
> probably not exactly what you were looking for, mostly because i like to avoid love triangles like the plague. Originally I planned for this to turn into 'hilarious miscommunication' but this is what came out instead.

It was summer, and Stanford Pines had decided to visit his twin brother for a few months. He justified it, saying that it was only to give his brother some assistance with his supernatural escapades for a little while, to take a break from his vacuum business that was crashing and burning. But really, he was more interested in his brother’s mysterious roommate, who he had met last Christmas when he visited, and who turned out to be a literal demonic entity. Looking back on it, Stanford really shouldn’t have been surprised by that.

Said demonic entity was… interesting, to say the least. At least, as far as Stanford was concerned he was. There was just something about him that made Stanford’s gut twist, made him want to run and hide the way a good horror movie did. Bill Cipher was terrifying, but addicting all the same.

Stanford had gone inside to grab a couple of cold beers from the fridge, before returning to join his brother on the ratty old couch he had set out on the back porch.

“So, whatcha thinkin’ about?” he asked as he handed his brother the can, startling him out of whatever thoughts he was lost in in the process.

After recovering slightly, Stanley took the can and settled back into the couch as his brother sat down. “Oh, uh,” he started, stumbling over his words slightly, “Bill, actually.”

Stanford opened the can and took a drink. “Bill, huh? What about him?” he asked.

Stanley sighed, opening his own can and taking a tentative sip. Beer had always been more Stanford’s thing than his own. “I just think it’s a shame he’s so limited on what he can do on the material plane, is all.”

Stanford took another drink from his can. “What makes you say that?”

“He can only _really_ touch stuff in the shack because of our deal, but outside of that he can’t really make any permeant changes,” Stanley explained.

“Well,” Stanford said with a shrug, “shouldn’t that be a good thing? I mean, he already seems to have a lot of power. From what I’ve seen, at any rate.” And it was true, Stanford had seen Bill do some incredible things in the short time he’d known him. Terrifying things, but incredible all the same.  He’d never admit it to anyone but himself, but he found the guy a little bit… awe inspiring.

Stanley hummed thoughtfully before replying. “I suppose you’re right about that. It’s just a little tragic, is all. I mean, I really like the guy, you know?”

Stanford felt his heart stop for a moment. Stanley liked this guy? His mind instantly jumped to romance of its own accord, he didn’t even consider that maybe Stanley liked the guy as a brother, or an interesting roommate. “Uh, yeah, sure,” he said, only a little nervous. He took a drink from his beer as a way to avoid answering.

“He’s just so powerful, the things he can do are terrifying, but incredible… it’s a little bit… awe inspiring,” Stanley said with a small smile, perfectly mirroring Stanford’s earlier thoughts.

Reality seemed to flicker for a second, but Stanford didn’t notice it. He was too busy watching the almost loving expression on his twin’s face. He did catch a little bit of grey out of the corner of his eye, but when he looked it was gone.

“He’s like a good horror movie,” Stanley added after a moment. Stanford was too busy staring at the can in his hand to notice the almost predatory, unnatural smile creeping onto his brother’s face. “Terrifying, but addicting all the same. I think I might _love_ him.”

Depression seemed to instantly wash over Stanford. Stanley loved Bill? It would only make sense, they were living together after all. And Stanley did always have an attraction to knowledge and dangerous things. Bill himself was dangerous knowledge incarnate. Stanford wasn’t sure why this upset him, but it did. It wasn’t like _he_ loved Bill. Because he didn’t. He hardly knew the guy, after all. “Oh,” was all he could say in response.

By the time Stanford had turned to look at his twin, Stanley’s expression had already returned to normal. “You’re not _jealous_ , are you?” Stanley asked, face and voice full of concern.

Stanford waved him off. “Me? Jealous? Over a triangle? No, no, not at all.” His voice wavered slightly. He wasn’t jealous. He hardly _knew_ Bill, he had no reason to be attached.

“Of course,” said Stanley with a nod. “After all, you hardly _know_ Bill. You have no reason to be attached.” Stanford shuddered as Stanley once again voiced his exact thoughts word for word.

It was in that moment he realized something was off. How long had the color been gone from the woods in front of him?

Slowly, he turned to look at his brother, who was staring at him intently, a huge unnatural grin on his face. Stanford felt his heart speed up a little, fear evident in his eyes.

Stanley started laughing a familiar, annoying laugh. With steady drips, Stanley’s entire being fell away revealing the demon beneath.

Stanford’s fear turned to irritation as he realized that the whole time he thought he’d been talking to his brother, he’d actually be talking to Bill. “Was that really necessary?” Stanford asked, not really sure why he even bothered.

Bill just laughed more. “Man, you should have seen the look on your face,” he said. Stanford could just _hear_ the grin in his voice.

Stan just groaned and forced himself to wake up out of the dreamscape. He was able to do it much easier than the first time he tried. Even on the material plane, he could still hear Bill’s irritating laughter. He rolled his eyes and went inside. He knew that within the walls of the shack, Bill could manifest as long as Stanley was home, but he didn’t care. He just needed to get _away_ from the annoying little demon.

More than that, he needed to get _away_ from the idea that he might actually enjoy Bill’s company more than he would care to admit, in a weird sort of way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always leave prompts on [my tumblr](http://hiccop.tumblr.com) or in the comments and i'll try and fill them at least 200 words
> 
> also if you notice any glaring mistakes feel free to let me know


	12. Movie Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan and Bill are home alone and decide to take advantage of the situation... by watching a horror movie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by an exchange with [gravity-what](http://gravity-what.tumblr.com) about Stanford being bad with horror movies

“And remember,” Stanley said as he picked his keys up off the hook, “if we’re not back by tomorrow night, go ahead and assume we’re dead.”

It was a familiar warning, one Stanford had heard many times before when his brother and Fiddleford decided to go looking for the next monster of the week without himself or Bill. “Sure thing,” Stanford shouted from his place in the recliner in front of the TV. He wasn’t too worried- they were only going to be investigating rumors of a squash with a human face and emotions. It didn’t sound too terribly dangerous.

As soon as Stanley left the house, the world faded to grey, and Stanford felt a familiar presence settle into his lap. He looked down and sure enough, there was Bill leaning against the arm of the chair with his legs crossed.

“So,” Bill said, “looks like it’s just you and me, kid.”

Stan nodded. “Looks that way,” Stan agreed, shifting so he was leaning more against the opposite arm rather than centered in the middle of the chair.

They stared at each other in silence for a minute before Bill reached behind him and slowly pulled out a VHS from behind his back. “Look what I got,” he practically sang, shoving the video into Stan’s hand.

It was the latest zombie gore fest flick, “Nearly Almost Dead But Not Quite.” The back of the box promised “Gallons of Real Fake Blood!” and Stan shuddered a little. This looked to be _quite_ the gore fest, and Stan wasn’t sure if he had enough mental preparation for it. He looked over to Bill, who seemed to be bouncing in excitement.

With a sigh, Stanford forced himself awake for just long enough to put the movie in the VCR. He settled back into his seat and allowed Bill to pull him back into the dreamscape with little resistance.

It wasn’t even five minutes into the two hour gore fest and Stan was already holding on tight to his demonic companion. Bill didn’t mind. He thought it was endearing that a human who could go toe-to-toe with manotaurs could be so disarmed by a little suspenseful writing and bad special effects. One thing Bill noticed about Stanford early on was that he got _way_ too emotionally invested into movies and TV shows.

Predictably, Bill noticed Stanford’s eyes close right when Chadley’s face was being eaten a lot. Bill rolled his eye, and patted his movie watching companion on the shoulder before turning back to the TV in front of them.

When the credits rolled, Bill patted Stanford’s arms to get his attention. “You can open your eyes now, kid,” he said.

Stan loosened his grip on the demon but didn’t quite let go. He opened his eyes. “Open my eyes? My eyes weren’t closed. I was just…” he looked around as he struggled to come up with an excuse, “Blinking. A lot. Yep.”

“Sure you were,” Bill said with a roll of his eye. He decided not to push the issue and settled back into Stan’s arms.

Later that evening, up in Stanford’s attic bedroom, Bill sat on his night stand, shrunk down with his natural glow amplified to illuminate the space around them. Stanford had had trouble sleeping, so Bill opted to keep him company rather than wait up for Stanley and Fiddleford to tell him about their latest adventure.

 That night, Bill feasted on nightmares about familiar zombies and bad special effects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always drop me a prompt on [tumblr](http://hiccop.tumblr.com) or in the comments and I'll do my best to fill it


	13. Stan's Tattoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Stanley disappeared, he designed an anti-poesssion tattoo in case Stanford and Bill's relationship ever crumbled. Stanford didn't get it until after it did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt form [V](http://archiveofourown.org/comments/25498580):  
> Bill being amused with Past!Stanford's new anti-possession tattoo courtesy of Stanley. Bill, in the present, finds the tattoo more than frustrating as it also blocks him from entering Stanford's dreams.
> 
> also inspired by [this headcanon/theory](http://haikujitsu.tumblr.com/post/113398823019/theory-8091b) along with [this addition](http://egberts.tumblr.com/post/113441611455) (Spoilers for Not What He Seems)

When his brother disappeared, it became more and more obvious that Bill was, in fact, a demon, and a conman before everything else.

After Stan had confronted Bill, telling him that he just couldn’t live in Gravity Falls anymore, Bill had stormed off, not even bothering to listen to Stan’s proposal that they leave together. All Bill had on his mind was revenge.

A while ago, during a dangerous fight, Stanford was about to die. Bill pleaded with him to make a deal, a deal that would let Bill take over Stan’s body just long enough to get him out of mortal danger, and of course Stan agreed. He trusted Bill, more than he could express, and knew that Bill wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. At least, not in that moment. And he was right, to some extent. Unfortunately, the deal was so vague that Bill quickly realized it meant he could take over Stan at any time. He had no reason to, and only used it to invade Stan’s dreams without using a complicated ritual. Once inside, he could actively change them, and take away Stan’s nightmares without having to devour them and leave Stan with a dreamless sleep.

Of course, at the time of their would-be breakup, Bill had no intention of changing Stan’s bad dreams to good ones. In fact, he had no intentions of invading Stan’s dreams at all. He wanted to make Stanford’s life hell for _daring_ to end what they had.

He took over Stan’s body in the night, and Stan could only watch in horror as Bill slammed his hands in kitchen drawers and fell down stairs and rolled in thorny bushes in the woods. On some level, Stan felt that he probably deserved this; it was his punishment for letting his brother fall victim to his own invention, his punishment for not communicating his intentions to Bill quick enough and inadvertently hurting what was slowly becoming the best thing to ever happen to him.

What he considered the best, however, was quickly becoming the worst. “Bill, why are you doing this?” Stanford had asked. If he had a physical form, he was sure he’d be crying. “I trusted you!”

Bill in Stan’s body turned on him, glaring at him with unsettling yellow eyes. “ _You_ trusted _me_!? I wasn’t the one who _betrayed_ me, Stanford!”

Fiddleford, meanwhile, had sensed that something was wrong with Stan when he hadn’t answered any calls for the past three days. He knew that there would probably be a fallout after Stanford’s disastrous attempt to move his and Bill’s relationship forward, that somehow inadvertently ended in a nasty breakup.

When he arrived at the shack only to hear Stanford’s voice yelling at himself, his suspicions were confirmed. Bill had somehow regained control of Stanford’s body, and was now doing who _knows_ what in the name of petty vengeance.

Rather than go inside, Fiddleford immediately ran out to the massive patch of dirt in front of the house, and began to draw Bill’s summoning wheel by heart in the dirt using a stick from a nearby tree. If he could summon Bill _out of_ Stanford, then maybe he could banish him from the material plane. With Stanley gone, it’d be easy to, as Bill no longer had any outstanding deals (that he knew of) allowing him to cling to this reality.

With words memorized from one of the journals of his late friend, Fiddleford managed to summon Bill. Shortly after the demon appeared in the circle, Fiddleford heard a thud, indicating Stanford’s body had probably collapsed wherever it stood.

“ _You,_ ” Bill hissed, turning his full fury on the meek young researcher. “How _dare_ you interfere!”

Before Bill could get any further, Fiddleford flipped to a page in journal number three that included a demon and spirit banishing ritual. The words fell from his mouth with ease, and with a sickening crack, Bill was gone from this plane.

Fiddleford rushed into the shack and found Stan collapsed just inside the house by the stairs. “Stanford, are you alright?” he asked.

Stanford could only groan in response, but it was enough to put Fiddleford’s mind at ease.

One trip to the hospital later, and Stan came out with both one broken ankle, the other leg broken, both his writs sprained, a broken arm and a few cracked ribs. He would heal, but it would take a while- Bill had not been kind to Stanford’s body.

When he was released from the hospital, Fiddleford asked what happened, and Stanford explained that a deal he and Bill had made a while ago had been left open for interpretation, and Bill decided to take advantage of it in revenge.

It was then that Fiddleford knew what he had to do. Before Stanley disappeared (for reasons Fiddleford couldn’t for the life of him remember why) he had left Fiddleford a design. It was a symbol he had purposefully crafted with the intent of preventing involuntary possession, something he had created shortly before he went missing, and presumably died. He had told Fiddleford that he was worried that if Stanford’s and Bill’s relationship ever went south there would be consequences, and he made Fiddleford promise to get this tattooed on Stanford if that ever happened.

Immediately, he took Stanford to the tattoo shop in town after picking up the design. Stanford didn’t protest, and remained quiet throughout the entire process. His heart was still stinging from the complete betrayal.

Bill may have been banished to the dreamscape but that didn’t mean he wasn’t watching. He found it amusing that the foolish humans he once called associates (and something more) actually thought a measly symbol could stop him. He knew that by the next full moon he’d have regained enough power to easily slip into Stanford’s head and take his body once again.

However when the full moon came, Bill found himself thoroughly blocked. To his displeasure, the tattoo did its job- Bill couldn’t take over Stan unless it was on Stan’s terms, not his.

Shortly after his wrist healed, Stanford made an addition in the journal on the page about Bill Cipher, to avoid summoning the demon at all costs, and to never let him into your mind. He was in such a hurry that he spilled his red ink all over the page, but he didn’t really care. The warning had been delivered, and he only hoped that if anyone ever discovered the journal after Fiddleford had hidden it, they wouldn’t be stupid enough to try summoning or making a deal with the demon.

Nightmares of the time Bill had shown his truly demonic side still haunted Stanford, even after they had reconciled. It was easy for Stan to forgive Bill, too easy; there was just something about the demon that Stan found himself drawn too.

And when you were on Bill’s good side, like Stan often was, Bill became a loyal friend and ally. To Stan, Bill was more than that, and after the hurt of the betrayal faded, he could only find forgiveness in his heart for the little demon.

So when Bill came sauntering back into his life after being summoned, and thus unbanished by Gideon, Stan wasn’t sure what to think. Should he be happy, that the creature he was the most enamored with had returned? Or afraid, that the demon would still be interested in vengeance.

Stan wasn’t sure how, or why, but Bill had somehow found it in himself to forgive Stan. Bill would never reveal that it was only after invading Stan’s memories did he realize the truth- Stan never stopped caring for Bill, even after all the things he’d done.

In the present, Bill found himself once again perched on Stan’s nightstand in the master bedroom. It was a familiar scenario, but one Bill never thought he’d find himself in again. He ran his fingers through the sleeping old man’s hair, marveling at how much Stan had aged in such a short time. He wondered what he was dreaming about, but realized he could never know without consuming Stan’s dreams himself, and taking them away from him. He could no longer enter Stan’s dreams without notice, thanks to the tattoo on his shoulder. Bill figured it was a just punishment for what he had done all those years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> technically speaking, the tattoo is courtesy of Stanley, just maybe not in the way that would be expected
> 
> also i keep telling myself 'ill only write 200 words' and then 1,000 words later here we are
> 
> as always drop me a prompt on [tumblr](http://hiccop.tumblr.com) or in the comments and i'll do my best to fill it, but probably not in the way that you'd expect
> 
> also if you spot any continuity errors, feel free to point them out


	14. I want to hate you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan wants to hate Bill, he really does, but he can't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from [anon:](http://hiccop.tumblr.com/post/113551961160/the-i-want-to-hate-you-i-really-should-hate-you)  
> I want to hate you, I really should hate you, I'm suppose to hate you.. ..but I just can't hate
> 
> takes place after dreamscapers

Bill was back. Bill was _back_ and Stan knew it, even if the kids weren’t saying anything about it. It was his own head, he would know what was going on in it. He knew how to navigate the dreamscape like no one else; he had a great teacher, after all. So of course he knew that Bill was back, knew that Bill had had his grubby little claws all over his mind. He also knew that, strangely enough, Bill didn’t do anything. He only felt like he was forgetting one thing, and even then it wasn’t the same feeling as having a memory completely destroyed. That left a scar, would make you go crazy if it was done enough times, but when Stan explored his own dreamscape he found no scar.

Stan processed the facts he knew. Bill was back, had been in Stan’s mind, yet hadn’t really done anything. Somehow at least Dipper had followed him, but logically he knew Mabel was there too and probably Soos; he always seemed to get involved in whatever the kids were doing. Stan couldn’t complain, Soos at least kept them safe. That was enough for him.

He should be worried that Bill had returned, worried that Bill was no longer banished from Gravity Falls. After all Bill had done, he should be afraid, at the very least. Yet Stan wasn’t.

The last time Stan had encountered Bill, it had ended with him in the hospital, all over a petty misunderstanding. But Stan could understand Bill’s logic, and found it hard to hold a grudge against him for it. On some level, Stan felt like he deserved it, as punishment for losing his brother and his… love? Was that what Bill was to him? Did Stan love Bill? He wasn’t sure, but something he _was_ sure of, was that he didn’t hate him. He couldn’t hate him, wouldn’t hate him.

Maybe there was still a little bit of Bill left inside him from when Bill first took over, to protect him all those years ago. Maybe it twisted his morals enough to make him think Bill’s actions were just a little more reasonable than any sane person would. Maybe it made him just a little more attached to the demonic entity his brother once called his boyfriend.

He should hate Bill, he really should. And he _wanted_ to hate Bill, so much more than anything. Wanted to hate Bill for all the pain he caused, for all the chaos he reveled in, for what could have been and what never would be. He wanted to hate Bill with all his heart, but he couldn’t.  Even after 30 years, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hate Bill. And if Stan were being honest with himself, he didn’t think he ever would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, feel free to drop me a prompt on [tumblr](http://hiccop.tumblr.com) or in the comments and I'll do my best to fill them, at least 200 words, though it may not fit the parameters exactly
> 
> also feel free to point out any continuity errors, and I just wanna say THANK YOU SO MUCH for enjoying this incredibly self indulgent fic


	15. You LIKE Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley discovers his brother might have feelings for his best friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt form [anon:](http://hiccop.tumblr.com/post/113666031530/how-would-stanley-react-when-he-found-out-about)  
> How would Stanley react when he found out about Bill and Stanford's relationship?
> 
> future readers: if Stanley is ooc check the timestamp

Stanford woke up that morning to the smell of pancakes. He knew just by smell it was his brother’s famous (or so he claimed) Stancakes- an original pancake recipe he had carefully created, and even wrote in one of his journals in code (Stanford didn't think there was anything his brother didn't write in code, to be honest). 

Stanley set a stack of pancakes down in front of his brother once he was seated at the table in their little kitchen. "You look exhausted," he noted after giving his twin a once over. 

Stanford groaned and cut into the pancakes in front of him. He shoved a piece in his mouth before answering, "Bill kept me up all night last night." 

"Chew your food, brother," Stanley said. He paused a moment, then asked, "What could Bill possibly be doing that would keep you up _all_ night anyway?" He could not for the life of him think of anything Bill could do that was disruptive enough to disturb Stanford while he was sleeping. Bill could only interact with things with Stanley's permission, which significantly decreased the amount of trouble he could cause at night. 

"We were up all night watching the Thursday the 12th series," Stanford said, before shoving another bite of food into his mouth. 

Stanley raised an eyebrow, trying to process what he just heard. "Those really gory slasher flicks? But you hate those." 

Stanford shrugged. "Yeah, well, Bill likes them, so, y'know?" He idly twirled his fork in the air as though to accentuate his point. 

Another thought occurred to Stanley, "Why were you watching late night movies with Bill in the first place?" 

"He asked and I said yes, simple as that," Stanford said before nervously shoveling more pancakes into his mouth. 

"Bill asked if you wanted to marathon Thursday the 12th?" 

"Mm-hmm," Stanford nodded, mouth full of breakfast food. 

"And you said 'Yes'?" Stanley sat down at the table across form his twin, who nodded again. Stanley had to ask, "Why?" 

Stanford swallowed and shrugged, "He asked nicely." 

Stanley found it a little hard to believe that Stanford had readily agreed to watch an entire _series_ he hates just because _Bill_ asked _nicely_. 

He also found it hard to believe that Bill asked _nicely_ for something. Bill was many things but polite was far from one of them. There was something going on here but he couldn't quite place what. 

Stanford avoided horror movies like the plague, his brother could not think of one reason why his twin would agree to do that. Unless of course... In ninth grade, Stanford had dated a girl that was crazy into sci-fi horror movies, which his brother _still_ couldn't stand, even then. But she loved them, so Stanford had decided to watch them anyway, even if it did mean he couldn’t sleep at night. 

"Stanford," Stanley said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room, "do you _like_ Bill?" 

Stanford choked on his last bite of pancake. That was all the confirmation Stanley needed, "You do!" He exclaimed. 

"I do _not_ ," Stanford protested, uselessly. His twin was one of two people who could read him like an open book, the other being Bill. 

Stanley quickly processed the information. Bill and Stanford were staying up all night watching horror movies. Because Bill asked nicely. Bill would never ask nicely, unless... "And Bill likes you!" Stanley made the next logical leap, "Are you dating?" 

"What? No, we're not dating! I mean, he's a pandimensional being of ultimate power," Stanford said almost wistfully, "and I'm just some guy." He sighed. "And I'm not even sure if Bill _can_ like me back the way I do, and even if he _could_ I doubt he _does_." 

Stanley shook his head, "Brother, now that I think about it, it's painfully obvious Bill likes you in a different way than Fiddleford and myself." It was true really, looking back on it, Stanley realized that even before they met, Bill had been unusually interested in his twin. "Maybe it's not what we'd think of as romantic, but it's definitely different. You should talk to him, you might be surprised," Stanley finished, placing a comforting hand on his twin's shoulder. 

Stanford looked up at him. "I don't know," he said, "I think I'd rather just wait for him to make the first move, you know?" 

Stanley nodded in understanding. "If that's what you want. Just know I'm here to support you all the way." 

"Thanks, brother," Stanford replied. 

Later that evening, while Stanford and Bill were marathoning what sounded like Dracula movies, Stanley decided to write out a plan to work to get his brother and best friend together, just in case they were both too stupid to do it themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when we get more stanley characterization, I might go back and re-write some of these chapters, but I'll still leave the old ones up. Also Thursday the 12th is a cheap friday the 13th rip off, if it wasn't obvious
> 
> Also also, I just wanna say THANK YOU SO MUCH for all your support. I may be writing this for me, but it's thanks to you all that in the bill cipeher/stan pines tag of ao3 this fic is #1 when sorted by kudos, hits, and bookmarks and is only one comment away from topping that. That may not be saying much since this is such a small pairing, but it means THE WORLD to me, you have no idea 
> 
> that was the last of my prompts, so as always feel free to leave one on [tumblr](http://hiccop.tumblr.com/ask) OR in the comments and I'll do my best to fill it, but probably not down to the letter, definitely at least 200 words


	16. Murder Triangle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time since Stan made bill-shaped food to appease his mildly narcissistic companion, but that doesn't mean he's not good at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another ficlet inspired by [gravity what](http://gravity-what.tumblr.com)

Stan’s favorite thing to do was cook. He had fallen out of practice over the years because he was too busy working on the portal to really do much else, but now that his brother was back safely, he had more time to return to his old hobbies. When the twins returned home for school, Stanley decided to travel the US, leaving Stanford home alone again, only this time with the knowledge that his brother was safe in this dimension. Well, Stan wasn’t _totally_ alone, considering Bill had now joined him in his daily life.

Things were getting better for them. They weren’t able to pick right back up where they left off, but involuntary possession would do that to a relationship.  Slowly though, their relationship was repairing itself.

With only Bill for company, Stan had decided to make something he hadn’t made in a long time- grilled cheese and tomato soup. It had been one of Bill’s favorite meals when they first got together. Bill couldn’t’ eat, but he could smell, and was very vain. He liked anything that smelled good and looked like him, and grilled cheese and aromatic soup fit both those criteria.

For the first time in years he cut his sandwich into four perfect triangles (as opposed squares). He pulled out a block of mozzarella and cut off a few thin slices, which he cut into four small ovals with practiced ease. A bit of left over tomato paste from his soup acted as a glue to hold the little eyes to the bread, and another dop served as a pupil. Using a toothpick, Stan smeared on tiny tomato paste bowties, and carefully arranged them on a plate around the bowl of thick red soup.

Bill had managed to conjure up enough energy to manifest across the table in front of him. He inhaled deeply (how Bill did that without a nose or mouth, Stan had no idea), and said, “Man, when was the last time we did this?”

“Thirty years, at least,” replied Stan, as he picked up a little Bill by the head, accidently smearing some of the tomato paste pupil on his thumb in the process, and dipped it crust first into the soup. He twirled it around before pulling it out, and letting some of the thick red soup drip back into the bowl.

Bill watched with fascination. He never told Stan this, and probably never would, but part of the reason this was his favorite meal was because the viscous red liquid reminded him a lot of blood. He liked the idea of being covered in the blood of his enemies.

When Stan moved on to the second triangle piece, he looked up at Bill and saw the look of glee in his eye as he dipped the sandwich in his soup. “What are you thinking about?” he asked as soon as he finished his bite of food.

Bill sighed dreamily. “Murder.”

Stan raised an eyebrow at his companion before he shrugged and went back to his food. He wasn’t really entirely sure what he was expecting, but he really shouldn’t have been surprised. He had realized long ago that he would never fully be able to understand the demon, and he was pleased to see that even after all this time, nothing had changed in that regard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, leave a prompt on [tumblr](http://hiccop.tumblr.com/ask) OR in the comments and I'll do my best to give it 200 words


	17. Mabel Runs Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mabel's emotions get the better of her, and she runs away to gravity falls after a poorly thought out comment from her well-meaning mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place just after the summer where the kids are 16

Mabel had been gone for three hours before anyone had realized she’d really _gone_. She had said she was going to the corner store to clear her head and that she’d be right back, but she was just… gone.

Today had been a horrible day for her, Dipper recalled. The more “popular” girls at their high school had called Mabel “ridiculous” and “silly” and even went so far as to say “It’s no wonder your parents send you off to that no-name town every summer- they’re too embarrassed to be around you!” That had really hit Mabel hard, and Dipper knew it.

He knew they couldn’t really say much about Gravity Falls in their home town, mostly because no one would believe them. Not even Dipper would believe himself if he was confronted by the reality of the abnormal nature of the small Oregon town.

When they got home, Mabel was still really mopey, in a way she hadn’t been since Pacifica called her puppy playing basketball sweater silly all those years ago. When the twins’ parents got home, they had asked what was wrong, and when Mabel explained the situation, their mother had said, “Well, maybe you should retire the sweaters, so that those girls won’t be able to make fun of you.” She hadn’t meant anything bad by it- her mother loved her daughter’s sweaters, in fact.

It just came out all wrong, and Mabel had started crying and said, “They were right, you _are_ embarrassed of me.” Before their mother had the chance to correct herself, Mabel had stormed upstairs. When she came back down, she had one of her massive knitted purses and told her dad where she was going before she left. Dipper could smell the lie a mile away, saw the extra sweaters and grappling hook peeking out of her bag, knew she was really planning to run away, but he said nothing.

He also noted that she had changed into her bright yellow Bill sweater, with the brick pattern and big white eye in the middle. The neck was black and the bow tie was made out of sequins. Outside of gravity falls, she only wore that sweater when she was truly upset. 

When hour three turned into hour four, the twins’ parents were about ready to call the police. “Wait,” Dipper said, when his mother went to pick up the phone. “I think Mabel might be going to Gravity Falls, we should probably call Grunkle Stan first.”

“That does seem like something she would do,” his father remarked.

“If nothing else, he’d like to know what’s going on,” Dipper added.

Mrs. Pines nodded, and dialed the number on a sticky note by the receiver labeled “MYSTERY SHACK.” Dipper had the number memorized, but his parents, apparently, had not.

It rang twice before a familiar, nasally voice answered, “Hello?”  Dipper perked up at this. He wasn’t really sure if his parents were aware of their Grunkle Bill or not. Neither Dipper nor Mabel mentioned him, mostly because everything associated with him was supernatural related, and after hearing the stories of their first summer, both dismissed it as their children’s overactive imaginations, and said if they continued to make up stories like that then they wouldn’t be going back to Gravity Falls. It was an empty threat, but both Twins had learned to stay quiet about their adventures after that, only giving their parents heavily edited versions.

“Yes, is Stan Pines there?”

Bill recognized the voice of his pine tree and shooting star’s mother. Instantly he dubbed her Pine Star, deciding she wasn’t important enough to have her own symbol, and choosing instead to blend the two he associated with her children. “I’m afraid not, Pine Star,” he replied.

“Oh,” said Mrs. Pines, her slight disappointment evident in her tone. “Well, can you tell him to call back as soon as he gets in? It’s about his great niece…” she trailed off, not wanting to give too much information to a stranger.

That had Bill’s attention. “What about Shooting Star?” he asked, voice just a bit icy. His omniscience was limited outside of Gravity Falls except during certain celestial events, none of which were happening at the moment.

“I’m sorry?” Mrs. Pines wasn’t sure who Shooting Star was. From the context, she’d guess Mabel, but she didn’t see why the young man on the other line would be concerned about her.

Bill sighed. He would be getting nowhere with Pine Star, he decided. “Put Pine Tree on the phone,” he said, getting straight to the point. His de facto great nephew would be able to give him the answers he needed.

If anything that just confused Mrs. Pines even more. “Pine Tree?”

Dipper perked up at his symbol being called. “That would be me,” he said, holding out his hand for the phone. Mrs. Pines shrugged and handed the phone to her son, telling him to hand the phone back if Stan got home.

“Hi, Grunkle Bill,” Dipper said into the receiver.

His mother gave his father a questioning look and mouthed, “Grunkle Bill?” Mr. Pines just shrugged as if to say “I’m as lost as you are.”

Both parents could still hear the man on the other line. “Pine Tree!” he said, sounding like he was talking to an old friend. “I take it this isn’t a social call?”

Dipper laughed nervously, “What gave it away?”

“My omniscience may be limited outside my domain, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out something’s wrong,” Bill said, getting straight to the brass tacks.

This only confused the Pines parents even more.

“Mabel ran away. She was wearing her _you_ sweater, so I was thinking maybe you could-“

Bill cut him off, “Already on it, Pine Tree.”

Anything that was created with the intent to hold Bill’s image, counted as a section of his domain. He had insisted that each of the twins have an item with his image in it, so he could keep track of them outside of Gravity Falls. Dipper was reluctant at first, but eventually agreed, and had never taken off the small necklace he wore since. Mabel had opted for something a bit more her style, and had proceeded to knit the Bill Cipher sweater she had worn when she left the house that evening.

Her wearing the sweater was part of what tipped Dipper off to the fact that she was headed off to Gravity Falls on her own. Bill could do a lot to protect them when they wore things with his symbol, even if he couldn’t actually be there physically. It only made sense that she’d wear the sweater as a kind of good luck charm to help her get there safely, and so Bill could act as long distance supervision.

After a moment’s pause, Bill said, “She’s on the bus here.” Dipper let out a sigh of relief.

 “Now hold on a second,” Mr. Pines spoke up, voicing his concern, “How is it that this Bill character can have any idea where Mabel is when we ourselves have no clue?”

Dipper just shrugged, “Bill just knows things. Lots of things.” He quoted a phrase Bill had often used in reference to himself.

“Listen Pine Tree,” Bill’s voice came from the receiver and Dipper turned his attention back to the phone, “I’m going to go find Stan and let him in on what’s going on. As soon as Shooting Star enters my domain, I’ll be with her, so you sort out whatever it is you need to sort out with your birthers, okay?”

“Alright, Grunkle Bill,” Dipper said. “Bye.”

“I’ll be watching,” Bill said before they both simultaneously hung up the phone.

Mr. Pines was standing with his hands on his hips and Mrs. Pines was still chewing on her nails. They both had a look in their eyes that said they wanted answers, and Dipper sighed, realizing he would have to be the one to give them.

“It… might be better if we all sat down,” Dipper started, gesturing to the couch. He took his usual seat on the corner of the sofa, while his mother sat on the other end and his father sat on the ottoman in front of him.

Mr. Pines got right to it, asking, “Since when was Stan married?”

Dipper sighed deeply. “He’s not, he’s sort of quasi-partnered? It’s hard to explain.”

“How can he be so sure Mabel’s already on a bus to Gravity Falls?” his mother asked, voice full of concern with a glimmer of hope that that was in fact where Mabel was.

At this, Dipper fidgeted with the pendant under his shirt, a nervous habit he had developed over the years. “Grunkle Bill just knows things. It’s just how he works.”

For some reason they couldn’t place, Bill gave the Pines parents a bad feeling. They were worried for the safety of their children, but weren’t sure how to express it without coming off as defensive or over protective.

Mrs. Pines stood up and moved back towards the phone. “I’m still calling the police,” she said. “I’m not about to trust the word of someone who I’d never even heard of until just now.”

“Mom, wait,” Dipper protested. Mrs. Pines paused a moment, and turned to her son. “The bus station is only a half hour walk from here, and they leave every hour. Gravity Falls is only seven hour drive from here, so if we just wait few hours she’ll call and everything will be fine.”

Mrs. Pines picked up the phone, and then set it down, returning to her seat. “Fine,” she said, going back to chewing on her nails. “We’ll wait but if she doesn’t call in the next four hours I’m calling the police.”

The next three and a half hours were an incredibly nerve wracking experience for the Pines parents. They didn’t know Bill, didn’t know what he was or what he could do, so of course they weren’t at ease the way Dipper was.

The phone rang, and Mrs. Pines answered it with a, “Hello?” that fully conveyed her anxiety and worry.

“Hi, Mom,” was Mabel’s shy reply from the other end of the line.

The relief Mrs. Pines felt was visible. “Oh thank god, sweetie are you alright?” she asked.

“I’m fine, Mom, but-“

Mabel was cut off by Mrs. Pines as her relief that her daughter was okay shifted to mild anger that she had run away in the first place. “Do you have any idea how _worried_ I was? You are going to be in _so_ much trouble when you get home, young lady, do you understand?”

“Mom, I-“ Mabel tried, but her mother just continued on.

“What were you _thinking_ , going all the way out to Gravity Falls on your _own_? You could have gotten abducted or killed or _worse_. You’re lucky your brother convinced me to wait and not call the police, you are going to be _so_ grounded when you get home, do you hear me?” she finished, breathing a little heavier than usual, with tears threatening to fall.

Dipper could hear Mabel sniffling on the other end of the line. “Mom, you don’t understand,” she said.

“I don’t _understand?_ Please, by all means Maybelline Pines, help me understand.” Mrs. Pines had a look on her face that was a cross between anger and worry, with a touch of genuine concern in her eyes. The whole thing made her look more confused than anything, and truly she was. Confused about why her daughter, who was so happy and saw the good in everything and everyone, would run away. She had expected this sort of thing to come from Dipper sooner than her.

“You don’t get it, Mom,” Mabel started, crying angry tears. “The stuff we see here every summer, no one gets it, not even you. And we can’t talk about it because no one would _believe_ us, not even _you_ believed us after our first summer so we just _stopped_ talking about it. And it’s been tearing me apart and I just can’t _be_ there anymore, Mom, I just can’t pretend that every summer for the past four years has never happened. At least here I have friends who _know_ what I’ve been through, who’ve been through it _with_ me and I won’t go back because _this_ is my home now, because with you and Dad, how can a place where I can’t even talk about the _nightmares_ ever be considered home?” She had stopped in her ranting to let out wet, tragic sobs that broke Dipper’s heart.

He understood exactly where she was coming from, had felt the same feelings. The things they did and saw every summer, while exciting, were also terrifying. They had nearly lost their lives- nearly lost each other- on countless occasions, and Dipper himself often found restful sleep hard to come by as his dreams were plagued with the idea of losing his sister.

During the summer, with Bill around to eat their nightmares, it was easy to forget their worries, easy to feel safe when an all-powerful demon acted as your de facto babysitter (even if both twins insisted they were too old for a babysitter).  But back home, Bill could only watch over them, not really do anything for them.

This all came as a shock for Mr. and Mrs. Pines. They had no idea their little girl, who was all rainbows and sunshine, could be bottling up such painful emotions. And nightmares? This was the first they heard of it. Mr. Pines looked over at his son, who only had a look of sympathy on his face, like he understood exactly what Mabel was going through.

Ever since their first summer in Gravity Falls, the children had been… Different. They came back with stories of gnomes and merpeople and demons and gravity falling. It was all so fantastical, it could only be the product of a child’s imagination. Even after Dipper showed them the cover of a newspaper that depicted him tasering a giant vampire bat, the Pines parents still found it impossible to believe. So they dismissed their stories as childish flights of fantasy and moved on. They assumed they were correct when, the next two summers the kids came home with more muted tales of peaceful hikes in the woods and trips to the lake. They never would have guessed their children could be hiding some of their more traumatic summer adventures from their parents.

Mrs. Pines had calmed down. “Mabel, honey, you know you could have come to us about anything, right?” she asked, trying to sound comforting.

“No Mom,” said Mabel, “You’d never believe me if I did.” And she knew it was true. Dipper heard Mabel’s shuddering breath before she added, “Look, I have to go. Grunkle Stan is making Stan cakes so I’ll… I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Alright,” said Mrs. Pines, the anger she previously felt all but gone. “I’ll be calling tomorrow.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up the phone. Mrs. Pines turned to her son, with an expression that conveyed a willingness to understand what was going on with her wayward children.

Dipper sighed and knew he’d be spending the evening retelling all their misadventures in their summer home away from home.

Mabel Pines could take a lot of things. Harsh words were nothing to her, but over time they built up. One could only be called a freak or ridiculous so many times before they snapped, and what broke Mabel was being called an embarrassment to her family. Perhaps, she considered, those girls at her school were right. Maybe her parents _were_ embarrassed about her, and that was part of their motivation for sending her and her brother away every summer.

Whenever Mabel went and told a story of something that happened at her and her brother’s summer home, her parents looked nervous, embarrassed even. Even if she worked to pass the story off as a complete work of fiction, no one could deny the spark in Mabel’s eyes that said she believed every word she was saying, no matter how fantastical.

She bottled up the mean words, and she bottled up the dreams and nightmares. She bottled up every traumatic, near death experience in Gravity Falls until she just couldn’t take it anymore. She knew, logically, she wasn’t an embarrassment to her family, and she knew, logically, that she lived for the summers in Gravity Falls, but she also knew that she needed help.

She needed someone to talk to about all the things she’d seen, someone who wasn’t her brother, and someone who would believe every word she said. Candy and Grenda had said that the Gravity Falls High School guidance staff was especially good to talk to, as they all knew about the craziness the sleepy little town seemed to attract.

Gravity Falls, while the source of her trauma, was also her home. It was where her heart was, it was where she could be in control of herself. She knew that as long as she had her grappling hook she could conquer any obstacle, climb any mountain, zip line off of any tree.  In Gravity Falls she could take control of her fears of the unknown, and feel comforted by her two favorite Grunkles who she knew from experience would go to any length to protect her and her brother (even if Grunkle Bill sometimes ended up doing more harm than good in his misguided attempts to ‘help’).

So with tears stinging in her eyes, Mabel changed into her second favorite sweater, packed up a knitted bag full of sweaters and her trusty grappling hook, grabbed her portion of the ‘Mystery Twin Emergency Fund’ out from under Dipper’s bed, and ran as fast as she could to the bus station to catch the first bus to Gravity Falls.

As soon as the bus crossed into the woods surrounding Gravity Falls, Mabel saw the world go grey and felt the presence of Bill Cipher pop in next to her. 

“Okay, Shooting Star,” he started, slinging an arm around the back of the seat and crossing his legs, “You’re not supposed to be back here for another six months at least. What gives?” He asked more as a formality than anything. He knew exactly what was wrong, knew the exact words that would come out of her mouth, knew that she would lean her head back, star at the ceiling, and with a sigh, say:

“I just can’t take it anymore Grunkle Bill.”

“Well, that’s pretty non-specific,” Bill commented, examining the nails of the hand not around his adoptive great niece (Bill still marveled at the fact that he had a human family- not even he saw that one coming).  “Care to elaborate there, kid?”

He looked over right at the same time she did, so for a moment they were caught staring eye to eyes, just as he knew would happen and she explained, “I don’t like pretending that what happens here-“ she gestured to the woods outside the window- “doesn’t happen at all.”

“No one said you had to pretend,” Bill pointed out.

“But no one would believe me- they’d think I’m crazy,” Mabel protested.

Her argument was very sound and logical, but Bill was neither of those things. “So let them think you’re crazy,” he said, lazily flicking his wrist in the air. “If I had a human nickel for every time someone called me insane, there’d be no more human nickels left in circulation.” He sounded almost proud at that.

Mabel nodded at that. Bill did make a lot of sense. So what if people thought she was crazy? It didn’t matter as long as she knew the truth. She and Dipper both knew by now that while Bill may be insane by human standards, he operated on a specific set of rules and was actually a very logical being in his own unique way.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Mabel said. “Who cares if they call me crazy? They’re the ones that are wrong.” She nodded to herself and Bill patted her shoulder twice.

“Exactly,” he said.

Mabel woke with a start when the bus stopped to let her off and the dreamscape and Bill disappeared around her with a pop. When she got off the bus, Grunkle Stan was waiting for her. Her Grunkle Bill must have told him she was coming.

She readjusted her bag and gave him a hug and they got in his car and drove to the Mystery Shack. Neither said a word during the entire trip.

The call ‘home’ was a lot harder than Mabel had expected. She knew deep down that her mother would be mad at her, but she figured she’d save it for when she got home. She hadn’t meant to blurt out all that she did, but there it was, all cards on the table now.

Grunkle Stan entered the room, and set a plate of Stan cakes on the table next to her. She used this as her excuse to say goodbye, and when she hung up the phone, she cried in her Grunkle Stan’s arms for a few minutes before wiping her eyes and saying, “I’m not really hungry Grunkle Stan. I think I’m gonna go to bed now.”

Stan nodded in understanding, and watched as his niece walked off towards the attic bedroom she shared with her brother during the summer. They could talk in the morning, but until then, Stan figured she needed her rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shortly after I first started this fic, this was a scenario I'd had in my head. Originally, I was going to have Dipper run away, but then I realized he's way too logical for that, and Mabel's more likely to do something impulsive and rash like that.
> 
> Anyway, here's a question: I've gotten a few prompts for things I'd consider to be AU for this canon (human!bill and monster falls, both im looking forward to filling, if you're curious). SO, I was thinking about setting up a different fic for AU fills, if I get enough of them. So, which do you think would be better? Putting them on this fic and just leaving a note about it being an AU chapter, OR having a different fic entirely for those things? (((if i did go that route it'd be called Dealing With AU because reasons)))
> 
> tell me what you think in the comments, and feel free to leave a prompt on [tumblr](http://hiccop.tumblr.com/ask) or in the comments, and THANKS for all your support!


	18. Dancing with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fill for prompt:[ stanford is dancing and Bill is watching him and/or they try to dance together.](http://hiccop.tumblr.com/post/115541105055/omg-i-want-to-thank-you-so-much-for-this-fic-im)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter is short. Not so sure about the quality on this one cause my beta is asleep, but I figure it's been long enough so here's something. 
> 
> Got two more lined up in the next week though, one of them is a SPECIAL SURPRISE and COMPLETELY DIFFERENT, I think you'll like it

Stanford was home alone, cleaning up the kitchen with the radio turned up, like he always did. His brother had gone out with Fiddleford and Bill to investigate something Stanford didn’t really care enough about to pay attention to.

His favorite song came on on the radio, and he couldn’t help but swing his hips in time with the beat as he washed dishes and set them on a drying rack. He didn’t even notice he wasn't alone until he heard a familiar echoey laugh followed by a, “Wow, Stanford I didn’t know you could move like that.”

Stanford instantly turned red. “Shutup, I doubt you could do much better,” he grumbled.

“You wanna bet?” Bill said, reaching out with one hand.

Stan took it, along with Bill’s other hand, and began swinging to the beat. Stan continued to shake his hips and Bill lazily kicked his feet in the air. As they moved throughout the room, Stan slipped on a paper towel that had been left on the floor and began to fall backwards. Bill caught him easily in a low dip and held him there for a moment.

They were so close, Stan could feel the warmth of Bill’s demonic energy. When he first met Bill, that warmth was something eerie and unnatural. Now it gave him comfort. Without them realizing it, the song had changed to something slower.

Bill slowly pulled Stan back up and began to lead him in a lazy waltz around the room. Stan looked so flustered in that moment, and Bill loved it. Bill adored Stan in a way that only a demon could. He loved how frustrated Stan sometimes got around him, loved the way he would meet any challenge, even one as simple as dancing.

It was then, as they twirled around the kitchen, that Bill realized he wanted Stan. Wanted to claim him as his own, wanted to own him. In that moment, Bill resolved that he would, one way or another.  

 

 


	19. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place directly after "Mabel Runs Away"
> 
> I think there was a request for this but I was gonna write it anyway so SHRUG

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is a SPECIAL SURPRISE. It's something DIFFERENT and takes place directly after this chapter. You may or may not like it. I like it. So there's that. It'll be up tomorrow

After their phone call, all three present members of the Pines family sat in silence. Eventually, Mr. Pines broke the silence. “So,” he began, pausing a moment, “Let’s start with Grunkle Bill.”

Dipper smiled slightly. “Where to begin?” he mused.

Mrs. Pines sighed and settled into her seat on the couch next to her husband. “Start with the basics, maybe?” she suggested. “Who is he?”

“Well,” Dipper started, “He’s interesting, to say the least.”

“Interesting how?” asked his Dad.

“Promise to keep an open mind?” Dipper asked. Both his parents nodded. “You’re not going to believe this, but,” he paused to take a deep breath and continued, “He’s a demon.”

Mrs. Pines scoffed. “What, you mean like not a very nice person?” She rolled her eyes. “Sounds like a perfect match for Stan,” she mumbled.

“No, no,” Dipper said, holding up his hands slightly. “He’s a literal, actual demon.”

Mr. Pines laughed. “What like from hell? Evil with pointy horns, pitchfork, the works?”

“No, he’s from the dreamscape and he’s not evil, just chaotic. He’s a dream demon,” Dipper explained. He frowned a little, disappointed his parents didn’t seem to be taking this seriously.

“Now that’d make a great story,” said Mr. Pines, “but seriously, who is Bill?”

“Look, believe me or don’t, I don’t care, but this sort of skepticism is why we never tell you anything and why Mabel ran away in the first place,” Dipper said sternly.

The reminder that their daughter was no longer with them sobered up both parents. “Look, we’re sorry,” said Mr. Pines, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his legs, “but you gotta admit, this is all a little difficult to believe.”

“I understand,” said Dipper. “If it helps, I have a pictures. They’re in Mabel’s summer scrapbook.”

 It was Mrs. Pine’s turn to laugh, “There’s no _demon_ in Mabel’s summer scrapbook.”

 “Not in yours,” Dipper mumbled, as he got up to head to their shared room. Before the summer when they were twelve, they had separate rooms, but after that summer they had gotten used to sharing. Sharing a room just felt safer and more comfortable, so they did. The extra room was designated a study space for late night cramming.

He walked over to the chest of sweaters at the base of Mabel’s bed, and pulled out all its contents, spilling them haphazardly over the floor. He removed the false bottom, and inside were a variety of books and journals (Dipper felt a pang of nostalgia as he ran his fingers over the first journal he wrote, ‘Dipper and Mabel’s Guide to Mystery and Nonstop Fun’). He pulled out last year’s fuzzy pink scrapbook and darted back downstairs where his parents were waiting.

 He opened it to the ‘Bill’ section and handed it to them. The first picture was a polaroid of the twins, with Bill in the middle, all smiling (or in Bill’s case, giving the impression of smiling) cheerfully. It had been their first day back and both the twins were excited to see their second favorite Grunkle.

 “That’s a very cute puppet,” said Mrs. Pines nervously.

 “Mom,” Dipper was only just able to keep himself from snapping, “It’s not a puppet. It’s-”

 Dipper was cut off by his dad. “A demon,” he said.

 “Honey, how can you be sure?” asked Mrs. Pines.

 “I’ve seen him before. In my dreams,” he explained.

 Dipper was just confused. “Wait, how?”

 “I, well,” Mr. Pines started, glancing up to look at his only son, “I was worried about you two your first summer away. You hadn’t called, and we had just heard that you sprained your arm but not how, so I prayed to god that you were alright. Except that night I had a dream and this…  _thing_ ,” he pointed at Bill’s picture, “was in it. It made me really uneasy, except it told me there was no need to worry because the end was coming soon. I never told anyone about it; it really freaked me out. But that’s him. The demon from my dream.”

 “So he’s really a demon?” asked Mrs. Pines.

 “Yep,” Dipper answered.

 “And he’s married to your uncle?” asked Mrs. Pines.

 Dipper grinned. “Well, they’d never use the word married…” he said, trailing off slightly.

 Mrs. Pines rolled her eyes. “It figures,” she said. “You’re uncle, married to a literal demon.”

 “Stranger things have happened,” said Dipper.

 “Do you- Do you want to talk about them?” asked Mr. Pines.

 Dipper smiled. “Sure Dad,” he said. “Sure.”

 The rest of the evening was spent with Dipper outlining every single adventure the twins had for the last four years, starting from the beginning. It was a lot to take in all at once, and Dipper knew that his parents would have a lot of questions over the coming weeks, but for now, all was well, and Dipper felt closer to his parents than he had in years.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a prompt and it'll go into the prompt pool!


	20. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Mabel Runs Away. An exert from Mabel's journal shortly after she comes to live with Stan and Bill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! This chapter is something different because it wasn't written by me! It's a GUEST CHAPTER written by my good friend and beta [Skelly](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_Skellington/pseuds/Dragon_Skellington)!
> 
> So, I kno what ur thinking, 'isn't it cheating to have someone else write a chapter'. The answer is kinda. I just really LOVE my beta's writing and thought it'd be interesting to see how she'd handle writing part of the aftermath of Mabel running away. This'll probably be a one time thing, but anyway, I hope you enjoy!

_Sunny Winter Thursday,_

_I guess I should start doing something in this journal huh?  The guidance counselor did assign it a few days ago.  And Mrs. Henry is so awesome.  She doesn’t think I’m crazy or strange and she’s really easy to talk to.  She told me to do start keeping a journal so I could get my feelings out on paper.  No one else has to see it but it’s supposed to help me sort things out and not have to think about them constantly.  I can write or draw or whatever I feel like doing._

_It’s been about a week since I ran away from Piedmont to come back to Gravity Falls and Winter break is starting.  I talked it over with everyone and we kinda came up with a plan.  I’ll be staying here until the end of the summer and I’ll be meeting with Mrs. Henry once a week.  When the end of the summer comes we’ll see how I feel to decide if I’m going home for next school year._

_It’s lame that Dipper can’t come stay with me too until summer break.  Bro-bro says he needs to stay and take care of explaining things to our parents.  They have a lot of questions and their going to have more that need answered.  I guess I understand.  They’ve missed out on so much and he can explain it better than I ever could.  Besides, I know I’ll see him again in the summer.  It’s just going to be so hard without him.  We’ve always been together so this is going to be the longest we’ve ever been apart.  At least every week I get to video chat with Dip and my parents.  It’s part of the arrangement to stay in Gravity Falls, but I don’t mind.  I miss them so much already._

_But I’m not alone.  I’ve got an amazing guidance counselor who always knows what to say and loves my sweaters.  I’ve gotten to hang out with Candy and Greta and they are so understanding.  One of the things I missed the most at home was the girl time.  Along with Waddles since he stays at the Mystery Shack all year.  I missed his cuddles and he always makes me laugh._

_And then there’s Grunkle Stan.  He’s done his best to help me keep busy with some work around the Shack. And he’s always around if I need to talk.  He believes everything I tell him about; he knows it’s all real.  But he’s survived it and he’s teaching me a little about how to do it too.  As part of cheering me up he even promised to start teaching me how to drive since our parents were going to this spring.  His only condition was that I can’t mention some of the tricks he’s going to show me to my parents.  I’m so excited!_

_It’s really nice being around Grunkle Bill too.  I don’t have the nightmares anymore.  He always knows what’s on my mind.  It would be a little creepy except it means he knows what’s wrong even when I don’t know how to say it.  And I’m taking his advice.  I know I’m not crazy or silly.  So do my family and my real friends and I couldn’t embarrass them anymore than they could me.  As long as I’m happy then I’m just going to be me.  I’m even knitting a new sweater that says “One Strange Bird” on it.  It’s yellow with blue writing and it has wings attached to the back.  I can’t wait to wear it when it’s done._

_We’ve actually been busy and having fun these last few days.  I was bummed that I couldn’t spend the holidays with Mom, Dad, and Dipper.  Grunkle Stan said he doesn’t usually celebrate them but he would try if I wanted to.  Of course, that meant he didn’t have any decorations except for a few things for the shop and a dusty menorah.  So I’ve been making decorations for the rest of the Shack and Stan is gonna get a tree.  I was going to hang some mistletoe in one of the doorways, but Grunkle Stan vetoed it.  Grunkle Bill was amused though.  I might get some anyway and see if Bill will distract him so I can hang it.  Those two are so cute I have to do it once, even though Grunkle Stan will just take it down as soon as Bill has gotten him under it once.  I even hung some decorations that Bill wanted and he’s going to help me with the tree.  I’m going to string some old light bulbs together and Grunkle Bill is going to fill them with blue fire.  I’m also going to make tiny sweaters and some other ornaments too.  Grunkle Stan said he might even hang a few things.  And we’re going to put a triangle on top instead of a star.  I can’t wait to -_

“Shooting Star!” Bill called.  He appeared in the attic as Mabel looked up from her pink sparkly journal.  “Isn’t it almost time for you to talk to Pine Tree?” he asked.  Mabel looked at the clock and saw he was right.

“Yeah!  I guess I lost track of time.  Let’s go!  I’ve got to tell Dipper about the tree and explain to my parent where to find their presents.” Mabel said with the smile that was coming more easily now.  She hopped off her bed and headed for the door, leaving the journal open with her purple pom pom pen in it as a promise to write more when she needed to.


	21. Smile Dip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten years after his brother disappears, Stan copes with the pain. Based on an idea by fanfic.net user [Evil-Ekat](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/4666756/) where Stan meets Bill during a drug trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for drug abuse. It's not too bad, but if that's not your cheese then go ahead and skip this chapter

It was the 1992 and it had been ten years ago to the day that Stan had lost his brother and best friend. In a week, he’d add the anniversary of when he’d lost his love to that list too. Stan wasn’t into drugs, but he did find he was part of the 1% of the population that had an… _interesting_ reaction to Smile Dip. In some people, Smile Dip caused severe hallucinations. However, unlike other hallucinogens, there were no negative side effects and while Smile Dip was addicting, it wasn’t any more so than chocolate cake or reality TV.

So when Stan wanted to forget his horrible life for a little while, he’d hop in his ~~brother’s~~ car and drive on over to the Dusk2Dawn and pick up a couple packs of the dusty candy. He knew he’d need a lot to deal with this week, so he went ahead and bought nearly 30 pouches of the stuff. The cashier, a nice older lady, gave him an odd look but otherwise didn’t question his need for so much.

One thing Stan didn’t realize was hallucinating was not the same as dreaming. When a person dreams, their mind curls into itself, and is safe and protected within the body. When hallucinating, however, the mind bled outside a person’s body, so that their visions and dreams took place in the world around them instead of in the safety of their own physical form. Stan never remembered his Smile Dip trips, but if he did, then he’d realize that this difference was what allowed a certain someone access to his mind, if only temporarily.

Bill was always watching Stan, even if he was currently sealed away in the mindscape. He was always watching everyone and everything, but he paid especially close attention to his playthings. If Bill had a mouth, he’d be grinning when he noticed just how much Smile Dip Stanford Pines was buying just to deal with his annual week of hell. Stanford would be stoned out of his mind, but it meant Bill could give him a piece of his without having to worry about that damn tattoo blocking him out.

It wasn’t even thirty minutes since Stan got back to the Shack, and Stan was already holed up on a window seat in the attic, pupils blown with a triangle window looming over him. The world around him swirled into pinks, greens, and yellows with a little bit of cyan thrown in for good measure. All he could hear was a steady rift that sounded like it was being played on a keytar and a voice that sounded like it was coming from underwater.

“Well well well,” the voice said, “Look what we have here.” A blurry yellow triangle floated in front of Stan, blending in with the swirling void of colors around him. “Wow wee, you sure have let yourself go, kid!”

Stan grinned dopily. “Well if it ‘snt ol’ Willy,” he slurred, standing up to go greet his long lost love. He slumped to the floor almost as soon as he got up, and opted to lean back against the window seat on the floor. He looked up at the floating triangle, trying to focus on Bill but utterly failing.

“Stanford, you look pathetic,” Bill tsked. “Need a hand?” he asked, and with a snap of his fingers, phantom hands began to reach out and hold Stan down. He didn’t even struggle against them.

The world shifted to dark blues and inky blacks that seemed to drip over everything. Stan began to feel cold, and he could now see the yellow-gold of Bill’s body clearly through his haze. Stan’s head lolled to the side as his eyes once again tried and failed to bring Bill into full focus. “’M sorry, Billiam,” he muttered, “So, so sorry.”

It wasn’t the first time Stan had apologized during one of his trips. But for some reason, this time, it hurt Bill more than all the others. “ _SORRY_?” he shouted, turning bright red. “All that _pain_ and you’re _sorry!_ ”

Bill snapped back to yellow and shrank as he realized what he just admitted. Pain. Stanford had caused him real, physical pain. Or was it emotional? Bill had never felt either outside a physical body, so it was impossible for him to tell the difference. Bill huffed. The hands disappeared, and the world clicked back to pink and yellow. “Leave it to you to ruin a bad trip,” Bill muttered.

Bill left without another word, leaving Stan to drown in his sorrow and regrets in a swirling mist of neon colors. He didn’t return at all that week, afraid of what Stan was capable of making him feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, leave a prompt on my [tumblr](http://hiccop.tumblr.com/ask) or in the comments and it'll go in the prompt pool


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